


A Second Life

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Fanboy Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: After a crushing defeat in the World Championships five-time Grand Prix champion Yuuri Katsuki wants nothing more than to retire in peace away from reporters, fans and even skating. But then the universe throws Victor Nikiforov at him.Based on an amazing Tumblr post with a Reverse AUPart 1,Part 2andPart 3.Russian translation here





	1. Warnings

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [A Second Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886237) by [Eskalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eskalin/pseuds/Eskalin)



> A big thank you to my friend LittleDearOne for being my beta for this fic! Also I may have taken some liberties in my interpretation of the Reverse AU as written by doodlesonice.

_If you were so inclined you could take a train going eastward from Tokyo for five hours and then switch lines and go for another hour and a half you’d find yourself in the city of Hastesu. A small coastal city, the name of which would probably mean nothing to most people, but it was the home of a legend…_

_A figure skating legend…_

No, that was just… That was what everyone called him. He needed something else, something original. But what he really needed was inspiration.

Daisuke Tanaka sighed, stood up and paced the room. It was no good.

He’d come all this way for an interview, but now he couldn’t make the last step and actually go to his house and talk.

_It’s not as if he’s going to come here_ , he told himself.

Maybe a walk would clear his head. Feeling guilty about procrastinating yet again, he called Masa into the room.

She bounded up to him, full of excitement, barely letting him put a leash on her, and they left the hotel for the beach.

Later he would assure himself that he’d definitely fastened the leash properly, that there was no way it could have happened. Whatever the explanation, Masa saw something that excited her and bounded off after it, breaking loose from the leash.

He spent all day calling her name, going through the whole town until the sky grew dark and he had to admit defeat. She was gone. No one had seen her. He cursed himself, the leash, the city, and even the person who brought him here unknowingly.

As he got nearer the hotel a familiar barking made him break out into a run for the front entrance.

A man stood just outside the doors with Masa in his arms. She barked when she noticed him coming.

“Excuse me,” the man said, “someone said you were looking around for a dog. Is this her?”

“I-I… Yes, that’s my dog,” Daisuke admitted.

Masa barked again and licked the man’s face affectionately. “Ha, ha,” the man laughed, “she’s such a cute puppy.”

And then Daisuke recognized his face and cursed himself. It was five-time Grand Prix figure skating champion Yuuri Katsuki, the man he’d come to interview! Looking at him playing with Masa he could hardly recognize the cold skater who always declined to give interviews.

It was his chance. He bowed. “Thank you for finding my dog! I’m a reporter and it would mean the world to me if you would do an interview for our magazine.”

“Oh… You caught me,” Yuuri said, and the smile was gone from his face. “I don’t really do interviews. You _are_ very polite for a reporter, though.” And there was a note of bitterness in his voice, “I appreciate that…” He paused, as if considering his next few words, “but… if I say no… you’re going to have to leave and take her with you, right?”

“Uh… yes, we have somewhere to be otherwise,” he lied. He couldn’t admit that he’d come all this way from Tokyo in the mad hopes for an interview, could he?

Katsuki’s face was suddenly serious. “I see… well, if there’s no way around it, then ask away.”

He asked the standard sorts of questions that reporters always asked, but Katsuki rarely answered. Katsuki’s answers were all fairly standard as well, but Daisuke wrote them down anyway. He tried to catch a glimpse of the real man behind that front, the whatever-it-was that he’d glimpsed when the skater played with his dog, but it was as if a door had slammed down, barring him from entry.

_What do you really think about your skating career?_ Daisuke wondered.

He found himself mentally writing the article. _The champion looked tired, worn out by the physical strain –_ no, it wasn’t that. What was it, then?

He tried to imagine how the man must feel, but couldn’t. Was he relieved to be done with it all? Did he have any regrets?

“How do you feel about retirement?” he asked at last.

“Like I’m going to get some peace at last.” He lowered Masa, excused himself, and left.

Daisuke watched him go. He couldn’t understand it. It was one loss, and the skater looked like he’d given up. Surely skaters should be used to losing as well as winning?

 

Yuuri Katsuki walked back home, feeling the full weight of his career bearing down on him. There were times when he wished he’d done something else with his life: a quiet desk job tucked away somewhere out of sight usually came to mind, but he knew deep inside that he couldn’t have done anything else. Skating in front of others for marks wasn’t half as bad as dealing with their expectations. With each gold medal it just got worse and so he’d just barely land on the podium at the World's, scoring lower and lower each time. No one had expected him to win a fifth Grand Prix gold or that he’d beat first place by 0.12 points when he did. What followed at the Worlds could only be called a complete humiliation and he knew that that was that.

No more competitions. No more expectations. The moment he’d decided on that it felt as if a great weight fell off his shoulders. He was free.

And then the reporters came with their annoying questions. Why did he leave? Would he come back? Was that it? Would he come back to the competitive world as a coach, maybe? Or a choreographer?

Where had that mad idea come from? He could barely motivate himself, how could he hope to motivate someone else? And it got worse, because seeing all that young talent made him feel even more useless, like a relic of the past.

And who wanted relics of the past around?

So he went home, back to his room, back to his little corner of the world to lie on a shelf and collect dust next to his cursed five gold medals.

At 27 he’d written himself off as old, retired and unwanted by everyone.

“Oh dear, I know _that_ face,” Minako said, barging into his thoughts.

He suddenly became aware of the fact that he’d arrived home, and that he was standing with Minako at the front door.

“It’s just my face,” he said, staring down at his feet.

“You need to find a hobby, Yuuri. You can’t just lock yourself away and do nothing.”

“I just want some peace, alright?” He reached for the door, but she blocked his way.

“It’s been two weeks, Yuuri, isn’t that enough?”

“I ran into a reporter today.”

“Oh dear. What did this one do?”

“Nothing.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I let him interview me.”

“That’s great, Yuuri!” Minako broke into a smile. “That’s more like it! You need to get out there and talk to people.”

“Why? I don’t like it. It makes me really uncomfortable. Why do I need to do something I don’t like?”

Minako considered this question. She had to admit that he had a point, but… so did she, surely? Yuuri was just wasting away, locked in his head.

“Will you really never return to skating? You always loved it so much!”

He avoided her question like always, opening the door and announcing his arrival quietly, hoping no one would hear him.

“Yuuri!” his mother, enthusiastic as always, ran out to greet him and Minako. Seeing her son’s mood she chatted to Minako about the weather as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“I’m going to my room,” Yuuri said, and left.

Hiroko sighed. “I’m really worried about him. I don’t want to bother him, but at the same time I wish I could help him somehow. Tell me, Minako, what do you think I should do?”

“Yuuri needs to find himself a hobby. I keep telling him that. I think he just needs to find something else to do to take his mind off skating. Did he have any other hobbies growing up?”

“He was always focused on his skating,” Hiroko answered. “He never had time for anything else and you know how bad he is at making friends.”

They both nodded sadly.

“I’ll think of something, I promise!” Minako exclaimed, twirling around on the spot. She was never one to feel down for long. “Let’s give him another week and then I’ll work on him. You’ll see! Minako-sensei can do anything!”

 

Sometimes events are like day and night: they happen at regular intervals, sometimes events are like drops of water following one another slowly, and sometimes events are like an avalanche, when all it takes is one little stone falling in the wrong spot to cause part of the mountain to come down all at once.

For Yuuri Katsuki the warning of an impending avalanche came the next morning (although, of course, he didn’t know it at the time).

He woke up and opened the curtains to discover that it had snowed overnight.

“Snow? In April?”

“Yuuri! Come help us shovel snow!” his mother called from the first floor.

The second warning the universe sent him came five minutes later just after he finished getting dressed.

His phone rang. It was a call from Minako.

“Yuuri, there’s something you need to see. I’m coming over to your house. Don’t go anywhere. This is very important, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Have you been paying attention to the skating news?” Minako asked him as soon as she arrived. She shook the snow off her coat, removed her shoes, and followed him into the house.

“No. Is this about that reporter?” He braced himself for something terrible.

Minako handed him her phone. “No, this is about a skater. You need to see this.”

He took it from her, saying, “I told you I don’t want any news on skat –”

“This is different!” she exclaimed and he could see how irritated she was by his reaction. “What do you know about Victor Nikiforov?”

“Victor Nikiforov? He’s a skater from Russia…” He answered, picturing the man in question. “What does that have to do with –”

Minako leaned forward, opened a browser on her phone, and pushed the play button on the video that popped up.

Victor Nikiforov stood in the middle of the ice as familiar music started to play. He raised his head and then his hands, turned, and skated across the ice. As the music picked up he jumped and then did a spin. Each element was painfully familiar.

“This… This is my free skate…” Yuuri said.

He landed a quad with what looked like perfect ease and then made several graceful turns, mimicking Yuuri’s performance at the previous Grand Prix perfectly. He even had that sad smile on his face that some sports commentators called Yuuri’s trademark smile.

“This is…” Yuuri struggled for words and realized that tears were running down his face. “It’s… He’s… he’s beautiful.”

“Watch it to the end,” Minako told him. “That’s when the shocking part is.”

The tears dripped onto his glasses, blurring his vision. He pulled his glasses off and stared at Minako. “Shocking –”

“I hope you all enjoyed me skating this beautiful program by Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor said in the video, “who will be coaching me starting next season! I’m heading to Japan tonight to meet him! Thanks as always for the support!”

Yuuri stared at the phone, then turned to Minako. “Huh?”

“So you _didn’t_ secretly agree to be his coach and forget to tell us?” she asked him with a sly grin.

“I’m going back to my room.” Yuuri put the phone in her hand and left.

“Yuuri! You can’t just run away! He’s probably arrived by now! He could be here any minute, for all we know!” She ran after him.

“Then you can ask him to go away when he gets here,” he said, and closed the door of his room in her face.


	2. Avalanche

For Victor Nikiforov everything was amazing. The flight to Tokyo was amazing (all of the flight attendants had been so nice; one of them even recognized him!). The train ride was amazing (although he’d slept through most of it, waking up just in time to switch lines). And, even the search for the hot springs at Hasetsu City was amazing (the city was so nice he kept stopping to take photos of everything).

He was about to meet his life-long idol, and then he’d be his coach. It was like a dream come true! When he saw the posters of Yuuri Katsuki all over the walls of the train station it was as if his idol had come to greet him in person.

Victor tried to contain his excitement and had to settle for a jog, his dog Yurka running behind him.

He couldn’t part from Yurka (well, _technically_ , he’d named his dog Yuuri after his idol, but Yurka suited him more) and, knowing that Yuuri had once owned a dog himself (named Victor, what a coincidence!) he assumed that the skater wouldn’t mind.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he arrived. Did they have doorbells? Could he just knock? He wavered at the door, uncertain what to do next.

A young woman opened the door and froze on the spot the moment she saw him.

“Victor?”

“Hello! Nice to meet you!” He gave a little wave. “My name is – ah.” He’d rehearsed what he was going to say, but he hadn’t realized that the first person he met would recognize him. “I guess he already told you I was coming?”

“Not really… Um… About that…” She stepped aside and held the door for him. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it?”

“Is Yuuri home?” Victor asked.

“He can’t come right now.”

“Is he sleeping?” That seemed right enough. From interviews with Yuuri’s friend Phichit, who was also a skater, Victor knew Yuuri was more of an owl, getting up late in the morning and going to bed late at night.

“You don’t need to worry,” Victor reassured her, “I can wake him up. Ah! But you haven’t told me your name, yet! This is Yurka, by the way.” And he crouched down to pet his dog.

“I’m Minako Okukawa.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re his ballet teacher!” Victor shook her enthusiastically by the arm. “I read about you!”

“Er… Right…” She freed her hand from his grasp gently. “Yuuri isn’t sleeping.” She went on, changing the topic back to safer ground. “He’s, ah… busy.”

“Oh that’s alright. I’ll just wait for him.”

Another woman came to greet him. “Good morning! I’m Hiroko Katsuki and what is your name?”

“I’m Victor Nikiforov!” How exciting! It was just his first day and already he got to meet Yuuri’s family. “I’m your son’s new student!” he announced.

“Oh!” She stared at him and then at Minako. “I’d better make you some food, then! What would you like?”

“I read that Yuuri’s favourite dish is Katsudon, but I never got to try it…”

It was definitely like a dream come true! Ten minutes later he was at a table with Minako on one side, Yuuri’s parents and sister on the other, and the most delicious food in the world in front of him. Yurka rolled up under the table by his feet.

Everyone was giving him their undivided attention.

“So… uh… when did Yuuri say… What gave you…” Minako struggled with words for a while and finally said, “Have you talked to Yuuri before?”

“Yes, of course! After the Grand Prix when he promised he’d be my coach!”

Minako and the Katsuki family exchanged looks.

“And before that?”

“Nope!”

Minako stood up. “I’m going to go get him.” Victor stood up as well. “No, no, you should stay here. I’ll return soon… probably.”

 

Minako knocked on Yuuri’s door, bracing herself mentally for the conversation to follow.

“Go away,” Yuuri muttered. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

“Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov is here.”

“Tell him to go away.”

“Go away and not introduce you to his dog? Well, if you’re sure…” Minako knew Yuuri’s weakness and was proven right when his door opened.

“Dog?”

“Yep. He has an adorable dog that looks just like Vicchan.”

She took Yuuri by the hand and led him out. “Come on! Let’s go meet V- I mean the dog!”

The instant they entered the room where everyone else was watching Victor finish off his food the dog got up and dashed over to Yuuri, knocking him off his feet to lick his face.

Yuuri laughed.

_Looks like not all hope is lost,_ Minako thought. She looked at Victor and wondered how he was going to act when he realized that Yuuri was more interested in his dog than him.

“What is his name?” Yuuri asked.

Victor’s face turned red ever so slightly. “Yuuri, but I call him Yurka. He doesn’t really respond to Yuuri now.”

“Yurka, that’s such a cute name! And you’re a cute dog.” He sat up to play with Yurka, apparently forgetting about everyone else in the room.

Victor fidgeted nervously.

Minako watched him, waiting to see what he’d do next. One by one the members of the Katsuki family excused themselves and left the room.

_It’s up to me now,_ Minako thought.

“So, have you seen the ice rink here yet? They usually let Yuuri skate whenever he likes so I’m sure you can do the same.”

“I’m not going to be your coach, or anyone’s coach,” Yuuri declared, taking Yurka off his lap.

“But you promised!” Victor exclaimed.

“When did I ever promise that? I’ve never talked to you.”

To Minako Victor’s face looked like the face of a person who’d just realized that their whole life has been a lie.

“But… but at the banquet you said…”

Yuuri stared at Victor. “I don’t remember talking to anyone during the banquet. Actually, I kept away from everyone, because I was so tired of their questions.”

“Y-you… we… we danced. You told me you would be my coach…” Victor went on. “Admittedly, you _were_ drunk at the time and I wasn’t sure you meant it, but… but then you announced you were retiring after the World’s and I thought… I thought…”

Yuuri’s face was shifting from shocked to horrified as this explanation went on.

Minako watched all this with a mixture of amusement and pity. Was Yuuri really going to turn the Russian skater down? After he’d come all this way?

Yuuri got up from the floor. “You’re wasting your time. Even if I wanted to be your coach, I’d be no good. Go back home. You have much better coaches in St. Petersburg. You have Yakov Feltsman.”

“But Yakov doesn’t inspire me at all!” Victor grabbed Yuuri by the arms.

“Coaches aren’t supposed to inspire people. They’re supposed to provide you with guidance. Your inspiration depends on you.” He freed his arms and crossed them over his chest. “What motivates you?”

Victor straightened up, as if answering a teacher. “I want to surprise people. I want them to be shocked and amazed when they watch me skate!”

“Well, you’ve got the synonyms for it memorized at least.”

Minako watched Victor’s face. _It’s true what they say: you should never meet your idols._

“Surprising people means doing things they don’t expect. Are you ready to do that?”

“Y-yes!” Victor looked close to tears.

“Get your coat. We’re going to the ice rink right now.”

“Y-you mean you’ll be my coach?” Victor asked.

Minako held her breath.

“If you can surprise me.” Was there just the hint of a smile, or was it just her imagination?


	3. Last Year’s Banquet

For Victor Nikiforov the banquet was always a very important social event. It was a chance for skaters to show that apart from being good skaters they were also good people. It was fancy clothes and conversations with sponsors while holding a glass in your hand and hoping not to drop it. It was maybe a little bit of dancing and lots of mingling.

It was a chance to glimpse your idol on the other side of the room and agonize for 30 minutes over whether or not he will come to this side and what he’d do if that was the case. And, naturally, spend another 10 minutes trying to find the courage to go over to him for a chat. Or a one-sided conversation that shouldn’t include the phrase ‘I know everything about you’. Or just a chance to stand there and enjoy being in his presence.

Yuuri Katsuki.

He’d give almost anything to be Yuuri Katsuki. Or his best friend, or regular friend, or casual acquaintance, or – _heck_ – next door neighbour would suit him just fine as well.

This was the third Grand Prix Final banquet where he didn’t find the courage to go over to him for a chat. It was stupid, he told himself. What if the skater retired after this season, like the rumours all claimed he would? He’d have missed his chance to at least say hello.

He sighed. Yuuri Katsuki was built like a _real_ skater, not like him – all skin and bones and thin almost like a ballerina.

And then his prayers were answered. Yuuri Katsuki walked over to him.

“Hello!” Yuuri said, stopping suddenly. “You look lonely, standing here all by yourself.” His face was flushed ever so slightly. In his mind, Victor decided it suited him.

“H-hello! I’m Victor Nikiforov!” For Victor it was as if all of his birthdays had come at once.

There was a sad look on Yuuri Katsuki’s face, and Victor wondered if he was going to start crying. He watched his idol try to pull himself together.

“I’m sorry it’s just… my dog’s name was pretty close to yours… Vicchan… he um… passed away recently… I’m sorry, I might have had a little too much to drink…”

Victor was suddenly aware of an opening in the conversation. His life-long idol had just compared him to his dead dog!

Four options occurred to him in that moment:

A) “I know about Vicchan! I know everything about you!” This would let his idol know without a doubt that he was in fact his idol, but even in his tipsy-state a slightly reasonable voice in the back of his mind was telling him it wasn’t the best thing he could say.

B) “I named my dog after you! I guess we’re dog name buddies!” Perfectly safe thing to say. Would _theoretically_ lead to conversations about dogs. And that would mean a longer conversation in general (even if by about five minutes). A really boring option, though.

C) “That’s so awful… You lost an important friend.” Obviously what anyone else would say in his situation. Most boring option ever.

D) “Marry me.” Simple and to the point. Definitely the best option.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked, surprising himself.

Instead of an answer Yuuri took him by the hands and led him onto the dancefloor. _You have selected secret option E, the gods will see you now._

 _Any minute now I’m going to wake up,_ Victor thought.

Yuuri put one arm around him while his other hand clutched Victor’s hard enough to be painful.

It had started out as dancing together, but it must have occurred to Yuuri that he didn’t really need a partner, because suddenly he backed away and started to dance – or, at least, Victor thought it was dancing – on his own.  He’d never seen anyone dance like _that_ before. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered his parents pointing out so-called “dens of sin” when he was a teenager, frowning and saying “don’t ever go there”. This was probably what happened there.

Yuuri spun around on his hands and back, his legs drawing circles in the air. He got up and moved sideways and the whole time Victor just stood in the same spot and stared. He had no words to describe what was happening. Except maybe magic.

A second figure he’d been dismissing subconsciously was suddenly blocking his view of Yuuri. It was Yuri Plisetsky. He looked extremely angry (which, for him, was a normal state of being) as he followed along and repeated what the Japanese Yuuri was doing.

Where did _he_ pick this up from?

If anyone ever wrote down the epic tale of Victor’s journey into the denizen of the gods (or possibly the den of sin), this would have just been the prologue. The true tale began when his old friend Christophe Giacometti handed him his shirt and pants and uttered words guaranteed to bring even hell to self-destruction.

“That’s _nothing_! That’s _easy_! Now I know a _real way_ for us to compete.”

No one knew where the pole had come from. People swore on the graves of dead family members afterwards that they didn’t even see how it claimed a prominent place on the dance floor, but claim it it did and suddenly there was Chris – half naked and spinning around it.

This – to Victor’s mind – was a temporary drop in the quality of the evening’s entertainment. What happened next raised said quality to immeasurable heights.

Yuuri Katsuki was at the pole. He was mostly naked, save for his underwear, socks and – oddly enough – tie and he was waving a bottle of champagne around. He spun around the pole after Chris stepped away, bending his arms sensually this way and that.

Victor was barely breathing as he clutched his phone in his hand and recorded the entire dance for history to always remember. He wouldn’t need any photos to always remember.

It was like watching Yuuri perform his Poker Face routine less than two meters away and with barely any clothes on.

Now Victor was certain. This wasn’t the den of sin, it was the temple of the gods. The kinds that demanded regular sacrifices.

 _I would like to spend the rest of my worthless life worshipping your body!_ he thought.

He was so absolutely smitten that when Yuuri came down onto the plane of mere mortals, put his clothes on and wrapped his tie around his forehead he let himself be led away wordlessly.

Three dances later Victor was slowly moving towards sobriety. He was starting to dismiss the pole dance as an alcohol-induced hallucination.

Yuuri’s state of mind didn’t seem to change. But despite the alcohol, despite the half-incoherent babbling, the man still managed to dance really well. If he’d gone out on the ice in his state and performed his free skate perfectly, Victor wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

He tried to focus on what the man was saying and not on the fact that Yuuri’s hand shifting ever so slightly down his back only to go up again, or that he could feel his breath on his face.

“…And after – hic – twenty-two they start hounding you like – hic – every damn time you mess up… is this your last season? Damn the press! Damn the rink mates! Don’t you dare quit on skating now! Victor… you’ve got talent, like – hic – _actual_ talent.”

 _What?_ Victor wondered if he’d really heard that, or if the alcohol he’d had was playing tricks on him. “I… that means a lot.” _Coming from you._

No, no, he must’ve imagined it. Maybe it was just all rhetorical and he was talking to himself. He couldn’t have just heard his idol praise him. That was too good to be true.

“I’ve seen your free skate and I know I can – I can prove it!” Yuuri went on, as if Victor had argued with him. “Let me – hic – let me choreograph a program.”

Had he died and gone to heaven? If so, he’d never expected it to smell of alcohol.

“Wait, no – damn… let me coach you! Do you – hic – need a coach, kid?”

He felt his heart stop. The gods of figure skating were smiling down upon him, or at least one of the gods was.

No, no, he was just drunk. It was just the alcohol talking. _God, I wish you were serious._ “I…I” _I’d give ten years of my life for you to be my coach. Heck, I’d give it all away minus one year, if you coached me in that year._ The words were all there, but he couldn’t say any of them.

Yuuri smiled as if he knew what Victor was thinking. He raised his hand to Victor’s face and gently brushed a strand of hair aside, his finger sliding over his cheek. “I can even picture the perfect program for you…” He paused to gather his thoughts and Victor sighed, feeling the blood rush to his face. It didn’t matter what Yuuri said next, any program would be the perfect program.

But the perfect program vanished in the mists of alcohol and Victor never learned what it was: Yuuri passed out onto his shoulder. The great honour of taking the unconscious Yuuri Katsuki back to his room to sleep off the alcohol fell to Victor Nikiforov.

If they had been in a movie or a novel, they would’ve been passionately in love with each other by the end of the evening, Victor thought with all the logic one gets from several glasses of champagne.

As he searched around in Yuuri’s pockets for his room key he wondered if he should leave his number. After laying him down on the bed, he noticed a pad of paper and a pen (of the kind that all hotels always try to make their guests take away with them) and knew it was then or never.

A number. His name.

He agonized for a full five minutes as to whether or not he should add anything else and, because there was still alcohol in his system, or because Yuuri Katsuki had breathed enough of its vapours into his face to last him until the morning, he added something else.

_Victor X_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have never watched Johnny Weir skate to Poker Face (which is the routine that in this AU Yuuri has performed at some point in the past), I recommend watching it. It might be useful in the future (I hint not so subtly). If you haven't seen it not all hope is lost: you can watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmzpCzQiGFM).


	4. Surprise Me

The Ice Castle was empty apart from Takeshi Nishigori who was manning the desk as always. His wife, along with Celestino Cialdini used to coach Yuuri Katsuki, and Yuuri was secretly glad she wasn’t there at the moment.

“Good morning, Yuuri!” Takeshi smiled. “Who is this?”

Victor shook his hand. “I’m Yuuri’s new student!”

“Looks like the rumours are true!”

“He isn’t,” Yuuri said coldly. Seeing the way Takeshi and Victor looked at him, he added, “Not yet, anyway.” Then, in a warmer tone of voice, he asked, “Can we use the ice rink?”

“Sure! You know we’re always open for you, Yuuri!”

“Thank you.”

“Practice?” Takeshi asked, looking from one skater to the other.

“If I can prove myself on the ice, Yuuri will be my coach!” Victor blurted out. The skater seemed to consist of nothing but excitement. Yuuri shook his head sadly. Had he ever been like that himself? Sometimes he felt as if the press had been a constant presence in his life.

“Good luck.” Takeshi gave Victor a thumbs-up.

Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes and ignored the concerned look Takeshi threw at him.

They headed for the change room and Victor’s excitement increased with every step (which should have been impossible, but happened anyway). Some part of Yuuri wondered with a dark fascination if there was a limit, and what would happen if Victor hit it.

“I get to skate at the ice rink where you started out from!”

“An ice rink is an ice rink,” Yuuri said calmly.

“And that was your coach’s husband!”

Okay… this was definitely starting to veer into slightly-creepy territory. He put his hands on Victor’s shoulders. “Calm down, alright?”

“But I’m so happy I could die!”

_That’s an unfortunate choice of words,_ Yuuri thought, but said nothing.

 

Victor skated onto the ice and turned around. Yuuri leaned on the wall of the rink, resting his head on his hand.

“Do you want me to skate anything specific?” Victor asked.

“I want you to surprise me. How you do that is up to you.”

Victor thought about this for a while. “Erm…” he said after a minute or two. “Can I have some music?”

“Of course. What would you like?” _He’s going to ask for music from one of my old routines, isn’t he? No points for originality there._

“Erm… C-can I have _Poker Face_ , please?” he asked, blushing.

“Sure.” _You’re not seriously going to repeat_ that _routine after your story?_

Victor sat down on the ice, his hands behind his back and waited for the music to start. _Oh, it looks like you are._

Out of the corner of his eye Yuuri saw Takeshi find a good position to watch from.

The music started and brought back more memories than Yuuri had been ready for. Watching Victor now he could recall the emotions he’d had when he put the choreography together, and every comment Celestino and Yuuko had made afterwards. Victor copied his arm and shoulder movements perfectly, and for the first time Yuuri had a chance to see what the program must have looked like from the audience’s perspective without the editing done by cameramen.

Yuuri watched Victor thoughtfully. It was obvious that the young man had talent, but could Yuuri really coach him? No, the whole idea was absurd. He didn’t know how to be a coach. He’d only ruin Victor’s skating career.

He remembered that unfortunate incident with Minami Kenjiro. The skater had followed him around a lot. He’d seek him out at any event they’d participate in together and each time he’d beg Yuuri to be his coach if ever he retired. After enough competitions Yuuri was starting to dread running into Minami as much as he dreaded seeing the press. So he pulled Minami’s coach aside and had a few words with her. Kenjiro was devastated. It was obvious from the way he’d completely bombed that competition, and Yuuri regretted not talking to the skater directly.

Victor made the same spins, but added several quads, which would have been impressive if he hadn’t messed up one of the landings. He turned over on the ice and got up, as if it had all been planned, and kept going with a wink in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri expected the fall to crush his spirits, like it would’ve if it had been him in Victor’s place, but for some reason it gave Victor more confidence.

He brushed it off as if it was nothing and in his version of the routine it worked.

_‘No, he can’t read my poker face.’_

Gone was the naïve young man to be replaced by a sly conman. Was that a mask and was this his real face or was it the other way around? There was a smirk on his face now, as if he knew what Yuuri was thinking.

_‘I won't tell you that I love you,_

_Kiss or hug you,_

_'Cause I'm bluffing with my muffin.’_

He dropped effortlessly into a knee slide, spreading his arms out.

Yuuri was no longer thinking of his own past. He suddenly had a very vivid memory of Victor’s free skate from the previous Grand Prix. He remembered how the moment he came out onto the ice the audience loved him. His routine was weak, but he carried the whole skate on his personal charm.

_It’s just a shame that they don’t give points for personal charm._

He remembered thinking that with the right routine and the right coach he could be the next figure skating legend.

The music ended and Victor froze in the final position in front of Yuuri with his hands framing his face. Slowly the all-knowing expression faded away into a big smile.

Takeshi applauded. Yuuri remained lost in thought.

“What? You didn’t like it?” Victor asked, tears in his eyes.

“No, you grasped the point of that routine perfectly.” _So well, that for a moment I thought the obsessive fan was nothing more than an act._

“So? Will you keep your promise?”

“For all I know, you could’ve made up the whole story about the banquet, but,” he paused, seeing Victor open his mouth. Victor closed it hastily. “I will be your coach.”

“Hooray!” he jumped in the air. “So when can we start? Can we start now? Please?”

“Might as well.”

“Because I already have a routine for my short program in mind! It’s the absolute best! Can I show it to you?”

“Calm down.” Yuuri wondered how Victor didn’t explode from all of the emotions. “Alright.” He watched Victor set up the music and a nasty suspicion crept into his mind.

The sounds of a guitar filled the air and Victor raised his arms. “This is called On Love: Eros. It’s about sexual –”

The music stopped.

“Why did you stop the music?”

_Because I listened to your story on the way here. I suspect that you wrote this about that night I got drunk that I can’t remember, and I don’t want to wait to find out if I was right._ Were the words he _didn’t_ say. “Uh… because I thought _I_ was going to choreograph your short program.”

“Oh my God! I knew you’d remember! You have to keep the theme, though.”

_Remember? I’m not really sure I want to._ “Uh, yes, yes…” he agreed, overwhelmed by the enthusiasm. “On Love…” He searched, and then inspiration struck. “On Love: Agape.”

“Agape? But that’s an entirely different thing…”

“Yes and practice begins now. I need you to go out and find a temple… or maybe a waterfall.” _And hopefully some calm as well._

Victor didn’t look very pleased at this. “I thought…” He trailed off, staring down at the ice.

What was it Celestino had said to him once a long time ago? _Carrot and stick, Yuuri. That was the stick and here is your carrot…_

“And while you do that, I’m going to think about the choreography.”

There was the sound of applause, and Yuuri and Victor turned to see former coach Yuuko clapping with a proud look on her face.

_Ah. Well. I guess she would’ve found out sooner or later_. “Hello, Yuuko-sensei.”

“Oh, please, it’s just Yuuko now. When my husband texted me I had to come here and see for myself. I wouldn’t have believed it otherwise.”

Yuuri knew she was baiting him, but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of his pupil. It wouldn’t have the right effect and Victor would probably just get more enthusiastic.

“Well, Victor, will you listen to your coach or not?”

Victor straightened up. “Y-yes! Aaah! You called yourself my coach!”

_If he dissolves into a puddle, I’m not cleaning that up!_ “Yes, I did. Now go do what I said.”

“Yes, coach!” He grinned happily and got off the ice. He made three steps, lost his balance, and would’ve fallen on his face if Yuuri hadn’t caught him by the arms from behind.

“Go. Now. And carefully.” Maybe if he gave simple instructions Victor would focus more on their meaning instead of the words he used.

Victor blushed, put his skate guards on and left.

“I’m really happy for you, Yuuri,” Yuuko said as if he’d won an award.

“I have work to do.” He sighed. “God help me. How will I deal with him? He can’t seem to stay calm for longer than five minutes.”

He went to put his skates on, trying to think of the music he could use for Victor’s short program, but a single thought wouldn’t stop bothering him. _What was that piece he’d played?_

He searched around for it and then listened to it on his phone. It wasn’t bad. Perhaps, in other circumstances, he would’ve even skated to it himself.

Half an hour later Yuuri was on the ice skating to a different arrangement of the same piece. He’d caught just a glimpse of an idea and was now trying to expand on it. Every 10 or 15 minutes he’d stop and just stand and listen to the music. What had it been?

It had slipped through his fingers, despite his best efforts to recapture it.

He was aware of his new pupil’s expectations. All too aware, in fact, and the weight of them was starting to press down on him like all of the other expectations had before. He could do it, couldn’t he? What if he _did_ ruin Victor’s career with this short program? What then? Would he forgive himself? Would Victor ever forgive him? He didn’t want another incident like with Minami.

A routine on the theme of Eros would suit Victor perfectly. He’d proved as much with the Poker Face routine. Should he have left him in his comfort zone?

But he’d said it himself: he wanted to surprise people. And Eros wouldn’t surprise anyone.

Yuuri stopped skating and bit his thumb nervously. Was he taking too big a risk?

He glanced up at the clock. It was well past lunchtime. Where was Victor now?


	5. Agape

Victor walked out of the temple no less excited than he’d been when he’d entered it. He knew instinctively that his trip hadn’t had the effect his coach had hoped for, but he’d come to Japan to skate not to spend time in temples! And, if he was being honest with himself, he was also here because of Yuuri. It was difficult enough not to think about him all the time before their first conversation, but ever since the banquet he couldn’t get the skater out of his mind. Yakov had given him a hard time over this, not knowing that it wasn’t a silly crush (as the coach had called it), but love plain and simple. Victor was starting to run out of words to express just how happy he was to get his idol as his coach.

Putting on his biggest smile he rushed off to the ice skating rink where Yuuri Katsuki was putting together a skating program just for him! He had to stop running and catch his breath to calm down. Beside him Yurka was jumping up and down.

“I bet I’m more excited than you right now!” Yurka stood up on his hind legs and Victor patted him on the head.

Victor straightened up again. He took a deep breath and tried to at least appear calm. He forced himself to walk slowly back to the ice rink. It worked until he put his skates on and walked up to the ice where Yuuri Katsuki was once again demonstrating his amazing step sequence.

Victor stood still and watched him. Yuuri seemed to be lost in a different world. A world where skating gods came from to drop in on mortals unannounced, and steal their hearts. To think he’d hoped to use the Eros routine to express what he couldn’t in words and Yuuri had stopped him!

Yuuri spun around and noticed him at last. “There you are. You must be hungry. Let’s go eat.”

 _But I just put my skates on!_ “Yes, coach.” Victor let Yuuri get off the ice before exclaiming, “That was from 2012’s Short Program! I always loved your amazing step sequence!”

“I see the temple hasn’t helped.”

 

“Eros is easy,” Yuuri said once they were back on the ice rink in the evening. “The seductive playboy is a simple enough concept to imitate. It’s Agape that’s the challenge.”

 _Don’t I know it_ , Victor thought miserably.

“Of course, it’s not as simple as that for Eros and probably takes some charm to be able to have the audience follow you at a simple gesture.” He demonstrated this without thinking, beckoning Victor with his finger and skating backwards with a smile. Victor followed automatically. Yuuri circled around him and the smile was gone.

“No, Agape is entirely different. It’s pure. If it helps, try to imagine a love without sexual attraction.”

 _I really can’t imagine that right now. At all._ Victor remained silent, not knowing what he should say.

Yuuri sighed. “Let’s try it another way.” He took Victor by the hands and pulled him along. “Pretend for a moment that…” he paused, as if considering his choice of words, “well… just imagine…” he coloured slightly, “…no, that won’t do at all,” he muttered in a quieter voice.

“Maybe I should just practice my jumps?” Victor suggested.

“Yes, yes, that sounds like a great idea,” Yuuri released him and skated off to the side of the rink to watch.

Victor couldn’t land any jumps for the rest of the evening.

 

The temple hadn’t helped and neither did Yuuri’s lectures. He needed to find a way to explain Agape, but before Yuuri could raise the subject again Victor fell asleep. He lay on the floor, clutching Yurka to his chest as if he was a stuffed toy and not a living being.

Yuuri found a blanket and draped it over them.

Victor looked so at peace. There was just the hint of a smile on his face. He fell asleep instantly, like any carefree person with an untroubled conscience would. It probably also helped that he was exhausted, Yuuri admitted to himself.

_He might be 23, but he’s still so naïve! Why does he idolize me? I’m an anxious mess even on a good day. It took the combined efforts of Celestino and Yuuko to fight my mental weakness, and even then I’m not sure who won._

He was tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

There was nothing for it, but to go back to the short program. He kept thinking about the music and how best to make use of it.

Another hour in the rink simply drove the point further home. He couldn’t do it. The idea was gone. There was no hope now.

What would Celestino do? Go back to the basics.

What did Agape mean to him? Vicchan. The way Vicchan was always happy to see him no matter how long he’d been away. The way Vicchan had supported him without even knowing it, just the unquestioning loyalty and faith had been enough.

He had it. He remembered exactly what the idea had been.

It was 7 o’clock in the morning by the time he had most of it worked out. That was when Yuuko and Minako dropped by to watch him. Of Victor there was still no sign. He could only assume that his pupil was still sleeping.

A few overheard remarks told Yuuri that Yuuko had filled Minako in on the details of the previous day, saving him the trouble of explaining what ought to have happened, or, at least, _how_ it ought to have happened.

“Two weeks after you swear off the ice for good I find you here. I’m not even surprised, Yuuri,” Minako teased.

_Strange words coming from you, when you keep telling me to find a hobby and to not lock myself away._

“Well it’s not like I could let him do a program about the time I got drunk out of my mind at a banquet all season.”

“What did he call it again? Eros? As if that program is the reason you’re choreographing something for him!”

“You’re not wrong.” No, he admitted to himself, he hadn’t put up much of a fight and gave in to being a coach too easily. Just because of the Poker Face program.

“Boo! Fame’s changed you, Yuuri! You’re no fun to tease anymore!”

“I’m his coach,” Yuuri retorted. “One of us has to be professional about it.”

“Yes, very professional… You’ve been here since last night composing a podium-worthy short program for someone you barely know, Yuuri.” That was Yuuko throwing in her two cents.

_Did they take up reverse psychology while I memorized the inside of my room?_

“Well… I’ll admit that I’ve gotten into it now, and the opportunity to watch him skate this program excites me. Watching Victor skate my free skate – something I choreographed to reflect on my life and love – with all the passion and fire he did made me realize just how little I cared about those things in comparison.” _That quad I messed up at the end was a pretty good metaphor for my career, now that I think about it._

“Yuuri…” Minako sounded ready to launch into another inspirational speech and he really hoped she wouldn’t.

“This is what I had to deal with every day,” Yuuko told her.

“Victor knows he can seduce a crowd of people, sure,” Yuuri said, changing the subject of the conversation away from him, “but what kind of coach would I be if I let him stay in his comfort zone?”

That was the theory, anyway. When Victor got there (five minutes later) and watched Yuuri skate with mounting excitement, which culminated in applause as if Yuuri had done something incredible Yuuri already had a premonition as to where everything was going.

_Agape: divine and unconditional love. I came up with it in the heat of the moment, but if he can do to this what he did to my free skate nothing will stop his rise to the top._

Victor finished going through the routine and turned around. “How was that? Pretty good for a first run, right?”

It wasn’t awful, but Yuuri couldn’t help feeling underwhelmed. “It was… okay…”

“Let me try again!”

 _You’re too excited. Trying again won’t fix that._ “Alright.” He restarted the music.

Victor repeated the routine and Yuuri thought of the way his pupil’s eyes had sparkled when he’d watched him do it. _A program by Yuuri Katsuki just for me!_ And he could see the long and painful journey they’d have to take to get this one right. He wasn’t sure he was ready to think about the free skate.

“No, no, it’s no good,” he interrupted and turned the music off.

Victor stopped and looked at him.

“Alright, Victor, what does Agape mean to you?”

“Unconditional love!” he answered as if he was reciting a well-rehearsed lesson.

Yuuri sighed. “How about in your own words?”

“Um… When someone loves someone… unconditionally… er… no matter what?”

He noticed Victor blush as he said those words and an odd question popped into his mind. He didn’t know if he should ask it, but he was the young man’s coach and so bound to find out eventually, wasn’t he?

“Have you ever loved anyone, Victor?”

Victor’s face turned redder at those words.

“Ah. Would you say that love was like Agape?”

“Erm… I don’t think so. It’s not… that kind of love. At all.”

 _Of course not. He’s an adult. He probably cares more about physical attraction._ Yuuri kept his face carefully blank as this thought occurred to him. “Okay. Think about Agape now. What image springs to mind when you hear those words?”

“I… I don’t know.” He stared at his feet. “I can’t think of anything.”

“That’s alright. We’ll concentrate on the general feeling, then.” He considered what to do next. There was really only one thing he could think of. “Let’s find a waterfall.”

Victor nodded meekly. “Yes, coach.”

 

The cold water flowed down over his shoulders. The rush of water drowned out all other noises and he felt his mind wander. How long would Victor’s patience last before he turned on him and declared that it was all just a waste of time? He could imagine the skater’s frustration with a coach that wouldn’t let him skate. How could he convince him that this was important?

Yuuri looked over at Victor.

He was muttering to himself. Gradually his voice rose in volume. “Agape… Agape… Agape…” and then he screamed, “I will find my Agape if it sends me straight into hell!” Then he remembered he wasn’t alone and gave Yuuri a shocked look.

 _Why did I come here with him?_ Yuuri wondered. _I should have sent him here alone._

He gave Victor another five minutes before taking him by the arm and pulling him out. “That’s enough for today. Let’s go back.”

“But I haven’t found it yet!”

“And I don’t think you will, not here.” He saw the hurt look on the other man’s face. “Maybe we need to try something else, but first let’s go eat.”

“O-okay.”

They dried themselves off and changed back into their clothes.

All things considered, the day hadn’t gone badly.

This was a thought that no one should have _ever_ , because there is – without a doubt – an immortal being that keeps track of thoughts like this and delights in turning things around. To them it’s the equivalent of a thrown gauntlet, to which they always respond with “challenge accepted”.

Yuuri could be forgiven this simple mistake because he’d missed a night of sleep and the exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.

The worst that could have happened did. The press found out.

Exactly _how_ they found out was a mystery that had only three suspects, and in a plot twist worthy of Agatha Christie herself, all three of them were guilty. They were Yuuko’s triplets: Axel, Lutz and Loop. They’d snuck around, knowing that their mother wouldn’t approve, recorded Yuuri’s final version of Agape and posted it online with the title “Yuuri Katsuki choreographs first program as coach”.

The press caught the new coach and his pupil in the street halfway to their destination.

“Yuuri Katsuki, is it true that you’re a coach now?”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Do you think your pupil will be the next figure skating legend?”

“Do you expect him to win first place in all competitions?”

“How are you preparing him for a Grand Prix Final victory?”

Yuuri and Victor stood still in front of the improvised inquisition.

When the reporters ran out of questions they paused expectantly.

Victor held his breath as he looked at Yuuri. Yuuri stared at the ground. He was getting ready to make a run for it.

“My coach is really tired today,” Victor stepped in with a big smile. “Maybe you can ask him your questions later?”

“Why is he tired? Is his coaching method that exhausting?”

Victor looked at Yuuri again. “No comment.”

They protested at this.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand. “Have a nice day!” He waved with his free hand and led Yuuri away.

As they got close to the house Yuuri managed to regain his self-control. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For handling the press.” _That’s my job._

Victor beamed at him. “I’ve been practicing! I’ve always wanted to say ‘no comment’!” He laughed. “Did you see their faces?”

He chattered away excitedly, from exclaiming happily when Yurka ran out to greet them to telling stories about his skating career so far. Yuuri listened absentmindedly. It wasn’t so annoying anymore. In fact, it was starting to have a calming effect on him, especially since Victor didn’t seem to expect him to join in. That’s not to say that he didn’t want Yuuri to interrupt (he’d left plenty of openings for him), but he also kept the whole thing one-sided and light-hearted.

It meant a lot to Yuuri and perhaps he would’ve said something if he hadn’t fallen asleep right after dinner and right at the table.

 

When he woke up in the middle of the night Yurka had rolled up on one side of him and Victor – on the other. Yuuri watched his eyelashes flutter as he slept.

How could Victor think he _didn’t_ know what Agape was?


	6. The Coaching Method of Yuuri Katsuki

Yuuri woke up several hours later because Yurka was licking his face. Victor was patting his shoulder and chanting something that sounded like “Wake up! Wake up! Time to get dressed and get up!”

Yuuri sat up, feeling the kind of discomfort one gets from sleeping in their clothes. He wasn’t a morning person, but judging from Victor’s enthusiasm, his pupil was. Just his luck.

“Hold on,” he said. “Can you stay still for a minute? Okay. I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going.”

He shuffled out of the room, debating whether or not he could hide in his bedroom, and then maybe everything would go away.

 

“Are we going to a waterfall today, coach?”

“No, today we’re going to do some basic training.”

He hoped this didn’t mean that Yuuri thought he would never find Agape. Still, the idea of basic training side by side with Yuuri Katsuki (or under his watchful eye) excited him.

He really liked staying with his coach. Yakov always kept him at a distance and made him stay in his own apartment. Yuuri had given him his own room! He even enjoyed falling asleep next to his coach on the floor. It wasn’t very comfortable, but that didn’t bother him.

A week passed before he was allowed back on the ice. He was starting to get used to the idea of Yuuri being his coach and didn’t get as excited about it anymore (until he really thought about it, and then the excitement filled him up once more).

He went through the short program again before Yuuri joined him on the ice.

“Stop!” Yuuri exclaimed. “No, that’s all wrong again.” He sighed heavily.

“Please!” Victor grabbed his hands. “Tell me: what am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s no Agape at all. Maybe we should pick a different theme after all.”

“No! I’m not giving up now!” Victor still held Yuuri by the hands and he’d accidentally given them an emphatic shake when he said those words.

Naturally, physics kicked in and they drifted a little way across the ice.

“I’m sorry!” Victor exclaimed. He lowered his head. “Please, show me again, coach.”

Yuuri skated in a circle and stopped just behind him. “Looking at your feet won’t help.” He raised Victor’s chin. “Try to imagine you’re a god.”

_The only one I can think of right now is Zeus who kept dropping in on young women under disguise._ He blushed. _And the god who currently has one hand on my chest, for some reason._

Yuuri was saying something about feelings coming from the heart, or it was also possible that he was giving him a biology lecture on the function of the human heart, Victor couldn’t tell. He tried to focus on his coach’s words, but only succeeded in focusing on his hands.

This wasn’t fair! No one else was ever tested like this he was sure! He was going to die halfway through practice without even making it to a single competition.

“Victor, are you listening to me?”

“Aah! Yes!”

“What did I just say?”

“That… uh… gods have big hearts?” he invented desperately.

Yuuri released him and skated around to face him. He stood still for a moment, lost deep in thought and then he said, “I’m going to skate it again. I want you to follow me. Don’t repeat what I’m doing. Just follow me across the ice.”

He wondered why his coach gave him this instruction, but nodded anyway.

Yuuri put the music on, closed his eyes for a moment and went through the routine again. Victor followed, suddenly filled with the knowledge that even if Yuuri had told him to stay where he was, he would’ve gone after him anyway.

Here was Agape, pure and innocent. But it made sense, didn’t it? A god would understand Agape perfectly.

_Marry me,_ he thought. No, that’s not what people said to gods.

_Where can I find your temple? I’d like to be ritually sacrificed to you._ That would have to do for now.

At some point he held out his hands and Yuuri put a hand on each. There was a smile on his face. He pulled Victor along, released him, spun around and dashed off across the ice. Victor tailed him, as if they’d been tied with a piece of string to each other.

The music ended, but the spell didn’t. Yuuri stood with his hands joined in the air above him like a triumphant god.

“Like that,” he said, breaking his final pose. “What do you think?”

Victor felt all the blood rush to his face. “…It was… very Agape.” _And somehow more attractive than your seductive programs._

Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest. “So, do you think you can repeat it?”

“I don’t think anyone can skate this program like you, coach,” he said loyally.

“You don’t need to flatter me,” Yuuri countered, pulling his hand through his hair.

_He can’t see my expression without his glasses,_ Victor realized. _Please let me worship you._ He breathed out a slow sigh. “I will try my best, coach!”

“Good.”

Yuuri got off the ice and put his glasses on.

The music started once more and Victor tried to imagine what went through Yuuri’s mind when he skated. What did skating gods think about? This was a hard one, so he settled for copying the smile instead. This was easier.

When he finished he held the final position for several seconds before turning to see his coach’s reaction.

There was that smile again. Yuuri nodded. “Better.”

Victor dropped onto the ice as if something had released him from its grip. He was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was.

“Let’s break for lunch and come back in the evening.”

“Okay.”

He watched Yuuri’s face on the way back, hoping to catch that smile again. He’d learned to think of it as a special favour, but he would get more smiles before the final, he promised himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Where is the press?”

“Minako promised to take care of them. Speaking of Minako, I want you to take some ballet lessons from her.” He waited for Victor’s response.

Victor smiled. “Yes, coach.”

“You don’t have to call me coach. Yuuri will do just fine.”

“I-I’d rather call you coach, to be honest.”

They had lunch together as always and Victor watched Yuuri as discreetly as he could, which turned out to be not discretely at all when Yuuri looked him straight in the eye and asked what was wrong.

“Nothing.”

There was nearly always a serious look on Yuuri’s face. Were all champions like this? In Victor’s mind they were all gods, but were they serious gods?

“You’ve been watching my face for the last 20 minutes. Do I have something on it?”

Instead of an answer, Victor reached out and adjusted Yuuri’s glasses back to the position they’d slid down from.

“Thank you.”

It was quiet in the house. Yurka rolled up next to Victor and went to sleep. The Katsuki family was elsewhere.

Victor wanted to ask Yuuri for a story from a previous competition, but couldn’t find the courage to break the silence.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Yuuri said, collecting the empty bowls from the table.

 

They stopped at a bench at the top of a hill where they had a good view of the bay below.

“I haven’t asked you if you’ve thought about your free skate yet.”

“No, I haven’t,” Victor admitted. _I’ve been too busy worrying about Agape._

“That’s alright: we still have time.”

They sat without saying a word. A breeze picked up, rushing through the leaves and playing with their hair. Victor looked sideways at Yuuri.

The skater sat with his hands resting on his lap and stared at the horizon as if there was something else to be seen in the distance.

Victor slid over closer to him so that they just barely touched, but Yuuri didn’t seem to notice.

“Coach –”

“Ah! There you are!”

Victor turned his head and watched several reporters make their way to them. He snuck a look at Yuuri. His coach froze on the spot, retreating into himself. There was something about the press that upset him. The mere sight of them seemed to destroy him from the inside. Victor had heard rumours of a big hush-up and wondered what they’d done, and how he could avenge whatever it was.

He got up and walked over to them. “Hello!” he said with a wave. “I’m so flattered you came all this way just to interview me. I came from St. Petersburg to ask Yuuri Katsuki to be my coach and he was kind enough to agree to it…” He went on for at least five minutes, making vague remarks about training schedules, his short program, and free skate. He then went on about his hobbies and Yurka, who was running around and growling at the press. He told them everything he could about himself without mentioning anything he hadn’t before.

When they didn’t get the hint he told them what he knew about St. Petersburg, which wasn’t much so he invented ridiculous facts just to see if they would publish any of them later.

One of the journalists raised a hand. “We… uh… wanted to interview Yuuri Katsuki.”

“You mean I’m not interesting enough for you?”

They flailed politely at this.

Victor felt an arm on his shoulder. Yuuri stood behind him. “I’m not giving interviews right now. Please leave.”

At this command they left without further argument. Victor looked up at Yuuri.

“Did you hear that, coach? They didn’t want to interview me. I’m so heartbroken!” And, he made a few tears appear in his eyes.

Yuuri laughed. “Come on, you big celebrity, let’s go to Minako’s.”

 

Victor brought up the free skate a week later when they returned to the top of the hill. They were listening to Victor’s music, one earphone for each of them when Victor said:

“I want to choose my free skate. You had your say with the short program, but I want to be able to choose the music this time and I won’t budge.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuri admitted, “as long as it’s not something weird.”

The next song was an aria in Italian. Victor had a mishmash of songs of different genres and languages. Yuuri wondered how many of them he could speak.

Victor whispered, “I want this song.”

_That was fast,_ Yuuri thought and realized that it wasn’t the shuffle function that had picked out the song, but Victor himself.

_‘Stammi vicino, non te andare.’_

“What is the song about?” Yuuri asked.

“The singer wants their loved one to stay with them and not go anywhere.” Victor stared down at the ground where he was digging a hole with the toe of his foot.

Yuuri wondered why Victor was blushing. Was there something else in the lyrics? “It looks like your theme this year is love.”

“Y-yes.” Victor’s face turned redder.

“It’s a good theme,” Yuuri pulled the earphone out and stood up, “and I promise to help you to the best of my ability.” _Even if it’s not much._ He held out his hand.

Victor stared up into his face and Yuuri could see the gratitude in his eyes. He took Yuuri’s hand. “Thank you. I won’t let you down, Yuuri.”

“I think we’re ready to pick costumes for you.”

Victor leapt into the air in excitement.

 

They went through boxes of Yuuri’s old costumes in one of the storage rooms. Victor felt as if he was going through a treasure chest. Each costume they found led to an excited exclamation, a recital of that program’s year and piece of music. Yuuri smiled at some of the things they’d found as if they were old friends.

Victor posed in one of Yuuri’s costumes in front of a mirror. “You know, I always felt like there was a story to this costume.” He turned around and admired the half-skirt in the back.

“There was, actually. I wanted to wear a skirt on my senior debut, but they wouldn’t let me, so I had to get creative.” He held up another one of his costumes as he talked, and there was that smile again. “Luckily, the costume makers were very open to suggestion,” he added softly.

“Oh!” Victor exclaimed.

_Cool_ , thought a small, sane part of his mind.

_Marry me,_ the rest of him pleaded.

His coach pulled another box out. “Maybe these will be better.”

“No! No! I want this one!” Victor exclaimed. “Please, let me have this one!”

“Don’t you want two costumes?”

“Ah! Yes!”

 

It was a warm day when they sat on the beach and watched the waves. Yurka lay on Victor’s lap. Yuuri sat a little way apart from them, lost in thought as always.

_What are you thinking about?_ Victor wondered. _Why are you always so worried? Is it me?_

“I never really asked,” Yuuri began and hesitated before continuing, “what kind of coach do you want me to be to you.”

Victor said nothing. What could he say? He had no idea how to answer that question.

“To be fair,” Yuuri admitted, “I’m not sure what I can offer, but I suppose I could be a father figure if you wanted me to –”

Victor jumped up. “No! No!” He protested. _Oh, please no!_

Yuuri smiled sadly. “I suppose a grouchy old man like me isn’t the kind of person anyone would want for a father.”

“I came to Japan, because I wanted you to be my coach,” Victor said, standing next to Yuuri. “I just want you to be yourself.”

There was that smile on Yuuri’s face and Victor knew he’d said the right thing.

 

During his time in Hasetsu Victor managed to make friends with everyone from Yuuri’s family to the man who always fished on the bridge he crossed to the ice rink every day.

One evening he poked his head into Mari’s room with a request for her.

“Can you teach me how to apply makeup? I wanted to paint my face silver for my short program, but I… I don’t know who to ask. I thought maybe… Yuuri told me you helped with his face paint for his Poker Face routine…”

Mari smiled. “Of course! Come in!”

He walked in and sat down on the floor while she went through her things.

“Yuuri comes to me with the same request from time to time. So I end up with all kinds of things in all kinds of colours.” She chuckled. “It’s funny that I never use any of this on myself, except to demonstrate what it should look like on my face. Nowadays there are tutorials online for this kind of thing, but still he insists on coming to me.”

An unspoken question hung in the air.

“I-I… ah… don’t even know what I want it to look like…” Victor fidgeted.

“That sounds familiar. Don’t worry, Yuuri never knows that either.”

Victor sat up straighter at this revelation. His make-up was going to be picked by the same person who always picked Yuuri Katsuki’s.

Mari brushed his hair aside with her fingers, and lets it fall back in place, frowning thoughtfully.

Victor tried to stay still and not breathe. A treacherous part of his mind replaced Mari with her brother and he was trying to push the image out of his mind. Maybe if he closed his eyes like this and concentrated on breathing slowly like this, he would stop blushing so much. But no such luck.

“Why are you blushing?” Mari asked after a while.

“J-just had a strange thought…” He muttered. _Oh no! Now she’s going to think I’m some kind of pervert!_

“Was it about Yuuri?”

“N-no! Not at all! Why would it be about him?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She sat down close to him and worked on his face as she spoke. “My brother, while an extremely talented figure skater, has a lot of trouble noticing how people feel about him. He’s been lucky so far that it wasn’t getting in the way of his career. But now…” She shifted a little bit closer. “You’ll have to tell him yourself.”

_How?_ Victor wondered.

“As plainly as you can,” she said as if he’d spoken the question aloud. Then she sat back and admired her handiwork. “Why don’t you take a look and tell me what you think? Be honest.”

She handed him a mirror.

“Perfect…” He breathed out.

 

Summer ended and the competitive season began. It was the day before they had to leave for the Cup of China. All of their things were packed, everything was ready, but Victor’s coach was nowhere to be found.

Victor wandered around the house, calling out Yuuri’s name. No one had seen him since breakfast that morning.

“He’s probably at the Ice Castle,” Mari said. “He’s used to spending a lot of time there.”

Victor found his coach out on the ice, going through his free skate from the previous season. Victor couldn’t understand why Yuuri was skating this routine, but he settled down to watch anyway.

“He’s doing it better than he did it at the World’s,” a voice whispered next to him. He turned to see Yuuko. “I can only guess at what’s on his mind, but I can’t help wondering if he’s made peace with his last defeat.”

Victor clutched his hands. If Yuuri hadn’t been defeated at the World’s, he wouldn’t have retired and become his coach. Was he regretting his decision? Did he want to return as a competitive skater after all?

“Yuuri has good instincts and lots of talent, so it always surprised me that he spent so much time in self-doubt.”

“Yuuko, what happened with the press? Every time they appear Yuuri gets upset.”

“I don’t know,” Yuuko admitted. “He never told me. This happened between seasons when I was away and Celestino went to visit his family. We could never get it out of him.” Yuuko sighed. “We tried to council him through it, but – no luck.”

Yuuri landed a flawless quadruple salchow.

Victor smiled, motioned Yuuko to hide and ran to the ice exclaiming, “Amazing!”

Yuuri turned around. There was a sad look on his face that Victor pretended not to notice. “Coach! Can I skate with you, please?”

“If you want to…”

“Yes!” He ran off to grab a pair of skates before Yuuri could change his mind, completely forgetting about Yuuko.

“Coach! Can you please go through your Yuuri on Ice routine for me again?”

“Why?”

_Because I like to see you skate it._ He made a worried face. “I don’t think I’m getting it quite right. It will really help me for my exhibition dance! Honest!”

“Alright.” And Yuuri’s face broke into that smile.


	7. Coaching Debut

It was the day before the short program and right after the run-through. Everyone was gathering to talk to the press and promise the world they’d be the ones to leave the competition with the gold medal.

Victor stood in front of a group of journalists, a big smile on his face, and his mouth running on its own. “…only the Greatest Skater to ever live! He took a break to coach yours truly. I hope you feel his love in my short –”

The Greatest Skater to ever live pulled him aside. “Victor,” he hissed, “have you somehow forgotten that I tried to retire in disgrace after a crushing defeat just months ago?”

“Aw! Coach, just let me brag about you a bit!” He ignored the aura of doom Yuuri tried to project at him, turned around, and returned to his boasting.

Yuuri had a feeling that no force in the universe could stop that boy in his present state.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you,” someone suggested and he turned to find Phichit Chulanont, two-time Grand Prix gold medalist and – as the newspapers liked to call him – Thailand’s pride.

“Phichit! It’s nice to see you!” He held out his hand, but Phichit captured him in a hug.

“So… it’s coach Yuuri now, is it?” He pulled away and grinned. “Will you take a photo with me, coach Yuuri?”

“Please don’t call me coach.”

“Will you be my coach, if I ask nicely?” He watched Yuuri struggle for an answer. “That’s alright. I know you have very strict criteria.”

Instead of answering Yuuri looked around for Victor.

As if sensing his coach’s concern, he appeared at Yuuri’s side with another skater.

“Coach! I want to introduce you to my friend Chris!”

Yuuri held out his hand and Chris shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, coach Yuuri. Victor has told me much about you,” he added with a wink.

Yuuri felt himself blush.

Victor nudged Chris away gently. “Chris was just telling me about his summer back home.” He paused for a moment and then looked at Phichit. “You must be Phichit Chulanont! Can I shake your hand?”

“Sure.”

“I look forward to beating you in the Cup of China,” Victor said, and earned a surprised look from Yuuri. “Oh, sorry, that was a secret!”

Phichit burst out laughing. “Let’s all go have dinner together!” Then looking at Yuuri, he added. “I’m going to win, so don’t you even doubt it!”

Victor laughed and everyone else joined in.

“Let’s invite Guang Hong and Leo with us,” Phichit suggested.

“And Celestino!” Victor put in.

No one brought up Yakov and Georgi for which Yuuri was grateful. _I don’t think Victor’s former coach wants to talk to me,_ Yuuri thought, remembering the man’s cold greeting when they passed each other in the hall.

 

It turned into one of the oddest dinners in Yuuri’s memory. Chris kept asking if he wanted any alcohol, which he declined as politely as he could. Leo and Guang Hong took photos of all the people and food at the table. They also asked to pose with Yuuri, turning the dinner into a photography session. Yuuri half-expected them to ask for autographs next (which they would’ve, if they hadn’t spent so much time worrying about the comments on their photos).

Celestino and Yuuri pretended not to hear the very serious debate among the skaters as to who the best coach was. It ended when both Guang Hong and Leo admitted they wished they could have Yuuri be their coach. Phichit just laughed. Chris nodded with a meaningful smile.

Yuuri didn’t know how to react to this. Celestino patted him on the back.

“If you ever need advice,” he whispered, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

_I already do, in a way,_ Yuuri thought.

The dinner ended with a game of Yuuri Katsuki Trivial Pursuit, led by Phichit Chulanont, and won by Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri didn’t know where to put his head.

“And for bonus points,” Phichit said and Yuuri prepared himself for the most embarrassing question imaginable. “What was Yuuri’s best program?”

_Here it comes,_ Yuuri thought. _He’s going to say Poker Face._

Guang Hong and Leo each volunteered their own favourites. These were the programs that got the most points.

Victor mulled over this question for a long time. “Agape,” he said after a five minute silence during which everyone stared at him.

“That’s _your_ program,” Guange Hong reminded him with a laugh.

“It’s Yuuri’s program. He choreographed it and he skated it, just not for points. If you’d ever seen him skate it like I did, you’d know that I’m right.”

Those words were met with more silence.

“And the sweetest answer –” Phichit began.

Victor stood up. “Yuuri should be skating Agape in my place. He really understands it.”

Yuuri fiddled with his chopsticks. “Thank you.”

“Where do you get your inspiration, coach?”

Everyone waited for Yuuri’s deep and meaningful response. For some reason bringing up Vicchan at this point didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

“I… uh… I get my inspiration by observing people around me.” They waited for more, but no more came.

“And that concludes today’s motivational segment from Yuuri Katsuki!” Phichit said with a laugh.

 

On the way back to the hotel they all split up, and Yuuri walked alone with Victor.

“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Victor said, “you’re obviously the best coach there is.”

Yuuri stayed silent.

“When you return to skating will Celestino be your coach again? Is that what you were whispering about?”

“I’m not going back to skating.”

“Why not? You enjoy it so much.” Victor stopped walking and looked at Yuuri. “Why did you retire, coach?”

“I thought I already answered that question.”

“That’s what you keep telling everyone, but that can’t be the real reason, can it?”

Yuuri tried to figure out what Victor was hinting at. “I got tired,” he said, “tired of all the press and expectations. That’s the real reason.”

“And I dragged you back into it.”

_Do we have to do this now? Your first competition is tomorrow!_

Victor turned away. “If you don’t want to be my coach, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Victor, where is this coming from?”

“I thought you’d want to go back, but you didn’t look like you enjoyed it at all today. Yakov is right: I’m selfish and I get carried away too easily.” He smiled sadly at Yuuri.

Yuuri wondered what to do. “Stop saying that. Let’s go back. You have a competition tomorrow.”

“I’ve brought you back to a place you ran away from and you insist on staying? You don’t have to stay for the whole season. You can leave whenever you like. I won’t hold it against you, I promise. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I made this decision myself,” Yuuri said. “I will be your coach until the end of the season, and then we’ll decide what happens next, alright?”

Victor smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

What else did people usually say in this situation? “Until then, at least, I want you to try your best, alright?”

“Okay, coach.”

 

Everything was fine and under control until Yuuri returned to his room and was all alone. It was quiet and his brain decided to fill the silence with mental agony.

_What if I’ve been wrong all this time? Victor still doesn’t get Agape and he can’t land all the quads in his free skate! Should I have come up with something else? Is it too big of a challenge too soon?_

_Most people prefer to pace themselves to peak at the final, but Victor insisted on doing everything at once. I should’ve talked him out of it. He’ll burn himself out before he even gets to the final. If he fails everyone will say I should’ve known better. They’ll say I was too scared to skate these programs myself and gave them to my pupil instead._

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to find Victor standing in the hallway in his pajamas.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I ask you something? It’s been bothering me for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come in?” Yuuri stepped aside and held the door open for his pupil.

Victor stepped inside. “That Poker Face Routine…” he paused for a moment, “...it’s not really the kind of music you usually use for your programs, coach.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “It’s all because Celestino and Yuuko kept teasing me for always picking instrumental pieces to skate to. I would’ve picked an aria, but they insisted on something more modern. When I heard the song the routine just came to me. I even knew what my costume should look like.” He smiled at the memory

“Hah!” Victor exclaimed punching the air. “Chris owes me 20 euros!”

“Why?”

“I bet him you picked it. He said your coaches did.” He fiddled with his phone in his pocket. “I wish you would come back to figure skating.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to surpass you one day!”

“I don’t plan on coming back.”

“Not this season, obviously, but next season. You’re not even that old. Lots of skaters keep competing past 27!”

_This guy, seriously!_

Victor grabbed Yuuri by the hands as he got carried away once again. “It will be amazing! I remember the last time we competed against each other! I got sixth place, you got first, but this time we’ll be less than one point apart, I’m sure of it!”

“Victor, you need to sleep.”

“I’m going to be five-time Grand Prix champion just like you, no – six-time! You’ll have to settle for silver! Because…” He sighed. “No one skates like you, Yuuri.” He turned as if to go, paused for a moment, as if considering his next words, nodded and turned back to look Yuuri in the eye. “Do you know what I thought when I first saw you skate?”

“What?”

“When you skate it’s like your body is making music!” He said and left.

Yuuri stared down the hall after him.

_Making music?_

 

The morning’s practice somehow turned into a chance for Victor to show off his jumps to Yuuri. After landing all of them, he sped across the ice to listen to his coach’s praise. Yuuri tried to remind Victor to think about Agape.

The skaters left the ice and Victor followed them, oblivious of the looks some of them were giving him.

“I’m going to take a nap, coach,” he announced as soon as he put his skate guards on. “Wake me up when it’s time to compete, okay?”

_He’s going to sleep right before a competition? Isn’t he nervous at all? I am!_

The day dragged on with agonizing slowness. Yuuri kept looking at his watch. Victor’s relaxed attitude really unnerved him. Even before winning his fifth gold Yuuri’s anxiety gave him trouble.

A frightening thought occurred to him then: _It’s going too well. Something will go wrong. I can feel it._

Victor hadn’t rebelled so far. He’d listened to his coach’s instructions, and rarely challenged them. Yuuri wondered why that was. He’d challenged his coaches right at the start. Had he given Victor too much freedom?

He stayed in his hotel room as his mind ran through a mental treadmill.

Something would go wrong it decided, and set out trying to figure out what. He paced his room. Then he got out and paced the corridor in front of Victor’s room. Was it time yet? Was it time now? What if his watch was slow? What if his phone stopped working properly? What if he’d gotten the time wrong?

Victor’s door opened and he stuck his head out. “What’s wrong, coach?”

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong!”

Victor eyed him suspiciously. “What time is it?”

“U-um… You have another 15 minutes.”

“I want to go now. Are you ready?”

They got there early and Victor chatted with Chris, but Yuuri could feel Victor’s eyes on him the whole time.

Yuuri was in his best suit and tie, feeling slightly overdressed. But he was a coach now and no longer one of the skaters. He watched everyone go through warm up exercises with an odd feeling of no longer being one of the group.

Victor was supposed to skate third. When he left the ice he stayed with Yuuri to watch Leo skate first. They didn’t say anything and applauded politely when Leo finished. Guang Hong was next.

Yuuri was suddenly aware of the fact that Victor was watching him instead of the competition.

_Oh no! He can see that I’m nervous! What does he think of me now? Coaches shouldn’t be nervous!_

Victor put his arms around Yuuri. “What words of encouragement will you give me, coach?” he whispered.

“Good luck!” Yuuri said, caught off guard. Feeling like more was expected of him, he added, “Think about Agape, Victor. I know you can get it right, if you try.”

Victor pulled away and stared into his coach’s face. “Really?”

“Yes.” He thought about it and added, “You understand Agape more than you think, maybe even more than Eros.”

Victor’s eyes widened and Yuuri waited for the inevitable excited outburst. He’d really done it now. But the outburst never came: Victor was considering his coach’s words, as if looking for some deeper meaning.

Yuuri sighed. “It’s your turn, Victor.”

 

_“I still don’t understand Agape, coach. What does it mean? You keep telling me I’m getting it wrong, but what do I do to get it right?”_

_They were at dinner alone, except for Yurka who was asleep._

_“It’s God’s love,” Yuuri explained, “the divine love he feels for all creatures.”_

_Victor nodded as if he understood, but it was still just words to him. He tried to translate it in his head into relatable concepts, and failed. In his world the main god was currently at the table with him._

_“Do you love anyone, coach?” he asked and then turned red as he realized that he’d said those words aloud._

_Yuuri got up and left the room without answering._

 

_How can I please you, coach?_ Victor thought as he joined his hands and drifted backwards on the ice. He tried to imagine he was Yuuri Katsuki, but there were two conflicting images in his mind: the cold distant coach, and the seductive dancer.

He landed jump after jump and wondered what to do. He thought of all the things his coach had made him do and how they still didn’t explain the mystery of Agape to him.

He could only show the love he knew.

When the music ended he turned to look at his coach, knowing that his evaluation would be worth more to him than the scores from the judges. What did he think? He’d landed all his jumps.

Yuuri wasn’t pleased. There was no smile on his lips and his eyes were cold.

Victor felt his heart sink as he skated to the kiss and cry. Asking the question then would just be a waste of breath.

They sat, waiting for the scores, next to each other, and yet worlds apart.

“It’s my fault,” Yuuri whispered, “I didn’t explain it properly and so you don’t know what to do.”

“I’m the stupid one who doesn’t understand Agape,” Victor argued.

“And the score for Victor Nikiforov is 97.3 points!”

“It’s a good score,” Yuuri said, getting up.

Victor followed him out. _But you’re still not happy._

They stopped in the hall and Victor gathered his courage. “Please explain it again, coach.”

Yuuri looked at him. “You said you loved someone.”

“Y-yes.” Victor felt the blood rush to his face. “It’s –”

“You don’t need to tell me who it is. I’m not asking for a confession. Just picture this person in your mind, alright?”

Victor nodded.

“If it helps, you can close your eyes.”

“I-I don’t need to, coach.” He bit his lip as soon as he said those words, but Yuuri didn’t seem to realize what he’d said.

“Now imagine the person is far away.”

“Away? Where?”

“Somewhere else, doesn’t matter where. The Moon, for example.”

“But there’s no air on the Moon!”

“In a spacesuit.”

“Okay.”

“They’re over there and you can’t go to them, and they can’t come to you.”

“Why?”

“They just can’t. The reason isn’t important right now. And you know they can’t. Would you still do whatever you could to make their life more bearable?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Even if you knew you’d never see them again? Even if they would never find out you did this for them? Even if they never thanked you for it?”

“Yes, of course!” Victor exclaimed without even pausing to think.

“Even if it might hurt you in some way?”

“Yes!”

“That’s Agape.”

“Oh.” He digested this and then picked up Yuuri’s right hand, and lowered his head over it. Hot tears poured from his eyes.

They were quiet for a while. The tears dropped onto Yuuri’s hand slowly, but Yuuri didn’t pull it away. Somewhere far away people cheered as another competitor finished their short program.

“Why are you crying?” Yuuri asked.

“It’s a sad story, coach.”

“I suppose it is.” He put his left hand on Victor’s head and pulled him close. Even on skates, Victor’s head barely reached Yuuri’s chin. Then he tensed. “Phichit, I can hear you behind me. Can you not take photos just this once?”

“Hello, coach Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed.

Victor wondered if he should pull away, but Yuuri still held him in place.

“Isn’t it your turn to skate?” Yuuri asked.

“Already did. 96.3, thanks for asking. And I’m in second place.”

Yuuri released Victor and they stared at each other in surprise.

“So I’m in… first?” Victor asked uncertainly.

“The press will be here soon,” Phichit warned.

Victor’s chest inflated.

“You don’t need to –” Yuuri began.

“Right now I am ready for all the press in the world!” He just hoped that his eyes weren’t red.

Phichit laughed. He was still laughing when the press arrived, and continued a bit while Victor boasted about his coach and his own talent.

Yuuri stood off to one side and watched.

 

They left for dinner afterwards. The coach and his pupil found themselves tucked away into a cozy corner of a large restaurant.

Victor watched Yuuri order a drink and toast his victory. He wondered what would happen if Yuuri had a second drink, but his coach never ordered it.

Instead Yuuri reclined in his seat and stared out the window. “I didn’t mean to make you cry like that.”

Victor paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Are they far away – this person you’re in love with?”

“N-no…” _Barely a few steps away, in fact._ Victor regretted that thought as soon as he had it and tried to concentrate on his plate.

Yuuri smiled. “Then there’s hope yet.”

“Hope for what?”

“I’m sure that after tomorrow’s skate they will get the message.”

_I doubt it._ “Yeah…”

Yuuri bit his lip and kept his eyes fixed on the street. Then he stared down at his hands and smiled again.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Just had a funny memory.” The smile was bigger now and Victor felt himself shift closer. Yuuri told him about a strange coincidence at a Grand Prix four years earlier.

The more Yuuri opened up to him, the deeper he fell in love.

He remembered when he’d first seen his idol compete. Victor was in 9th grade then and they were studying Evgeny Onegin in school. Between classes and training he managed to find time to write a letter that sounded like Tatyana’s love letter to Onegin, but it was a confession written in the sure knowledge that no one would ever read it.

His admiration then had been like loving a work of art. You wouldn’t expect it to even acknowledge your existence, let alone return your feelings.

Now here was his idol in the flesh and he wasn’t really a god. Below an exterior as cold as marble was a heart that – what an exciting thought! – might also know how to love.

_No, I’m happy as I am. I want things to stay as they are._


	8. Getting in the Way

Minako joined the audience in cheering for Phichit. There was no denying it: the Thai skater had a flair that won over the audience easily. He gave an incredible performance that, even she had to admit, outshone Chris’s.

Phichit waved happily to the audience, and Minako compared him for the hundredth time to Yuuri. Here was someone who’d taken fame in their stride. Yuuri, on the other hand…

The new coach was saying something to his pupil.

_Oh dear, Yuuri, what did you do? I can see your guilt from all the way up here._

She still had a hard time believing he’d taken a pupil, despite the evidence of her own eyes. The fact that he was oblivious of his pupil’s feelings for him hadn’t come as a surprise at all.

_What does that poor Victor see in you?_ she wondered. _Whatever it is, I just hope it doesn’t all end in heartbreak and tears._

Victor skated onto the ice. Minako leaned forward in anticipation. She’d had a long excited conversation about his short program with Yuuko the previous evening. Then they argued about the free skate. They both knew how ambitious the free skate was, and now Minako wondered which of them would be proven right: Yuuko with her more conservative approach, or she with her claim that the risk was justified.

But now there was an extra factor that the argument hadn’t taken into account.

 

Yuuri watched Victor skate his free program, feeling guilty about making his pupil cry. He’d really taken that story to heart. He remembered all the times that love had come up in a conversation and how Victor would react. He was really in love with this person and it was obvious that, whoever it was, Victor hadn’t told them. Maybe he thought his love was unrequited. It couldn’t be. Surely anyone watching him skate would be happy to return his feelings.

Victor flubbed a jump, then a triple axel became a single, and Yuuri sighed.

His unrequited love was starting to get in the way of his skating. It was no wonder he couldn’t grasp Agape! He wanted the person to return his feelings, so how could he think about selfless love?

Victor was wasting away in all the pining. Yuuri had seen Georgi skate earlier and mentally compared the two skaters. But their situations were far from identical. Georgi knew for certain that his love wasn’t returned, while Victor didn’t.

Why didn’t Victor confess his love? Surely that would end his troubles. And at least someone would be happy from the two of them.

The spins that Victor usually favoured so much and never had problems with before were half-hearted now. The charm that was always so evident in his skating and even more so in this program was gone. But still Victor held to the end and followed the music.

The song ended and Victor stood with his arms around himself. He left the ice with a sad look on his face, heading straight for the kiss and cry without even looking at his coach, his head lowered in defeat.

“You can’t keep pining away like this, Victor. You should confess your feelings.”

Victor raised his head. His face was red. “What? Confess?”

“Yes. Why don’t you tell the person you love how you feel? I can see your feelings are starting to interfere with your skating.”

“What if they don’t love me back?”

“You don’t know that for sure, do you? And if they don’t love you, then at least you can stop pining away, and start working on getting over your feelings.”

“You’ve never been in love before, have you, coach?” Victor asked coldly.

“A-ah! No.”

They announced Victor’s scores as well as the fact that he placed second overall, but Victor just got up and left as if none of it mattered anymore.

 

Victor was giving vent to his feelings in the bathroom when he heard a knock on his door.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked. “Are you there?”

“Go away.” _No! What am I saying? Stay here! Stay with me._

Yuuri was silent for a moment as if those were the last words he’d expected to hear. “I… The awards ceremony is about to start.”

“They can give my medal to someone else!”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t –”

“Don’t apologize. You don’t understand, so why apologize?”

“I just wanted to help. I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing. You’re right: I have no idea what I’m talking about, but maybe you should ask someone’s advice?”

He was right. How long could Victor go on like this? But who could he talk to? He already knew what Chris would say. He didn’t know Phichit well enough to talk to him. _Mari would understand_ , he thought, and promised himself to talk to her as soon as he got the chance.

“Victor –”

He opened the door of the bathroom stall and stepped out. His eyes were probably red and people would think he cried because he didn’t win. As if he’d ever cry over something like that! He knew how to lose with dignity.

He straightened up and went to the sinks to wash his face.

After a while he risked a glance at his coach. There were mental barriers going up again. This confused Victor. He was the one who was hurt and upset. Why was Yuuri retreating within himself?

“This is why I didn’t want to be a coach,” Yuuri whispered and turned away.

_I don’t want to feel this way,_ Victor suddenly thought. _I don’t need these feelings. I don’t know what to do with them or how to deal with this pain. How can I make them stop? I never asked for this! I wanted to admire you a little and maybe win your attention, but I can’t do anything at all. I might as well be paralyzed!_

He looked at his reflection. His eyes weren’t red. He remembered what his parents had said when he’d started his skating career and every time when it got too difficult and he felt as if he’d hit a wall.

_My great-grandfather went through the war and survived. I can get through this._

He smiled and grabbed his coach by the arm. “Come on! They’ll start the awards ceremony without us!”

 

“Your coach is an idiot,” Chris whispered to Victor as they got off the podium.

“Yeah… but he’s _my_ idiot,” Victor mumbled wistfully.

“Oh, so you told him, then?”

“N-no,” Victor coloured.

“You should. He seems like the type who will only get it when someone tells him explicitly.”

“It’s easy for you to say. How many times have you confessed?”

“Hmm… Six, probably, and I’ve been confessed to –”

“Yes, yes, alright.” He sighed. “But he’s like… like a beautiful star in the sky. You can’t expect him to love you back.”

Chris snorted. “Are you terrified he’ll say yes? That it will turn out that your coach will love you back?”

Victor turned a brighter shade of red at this. “What?”

Chris leaned close to him and whispered, “Or that it turns out that he’s awful in bed?”

“Stop it!”

“Only one way to find out.”

Victor turned away. “I’m not listening to this.”

Chris laughed.

“Let’s take a group photo!” Phichit exclaimed, and Victor realized he’d been within earshot for most of the conversation. Phichit winked at him.

_How much did he hear?_

“Let’s get the coaches in the photo too!”

The photo was online several minutes later. Between them, Phichit and Chris managed to arrange everyone so that Victor ended up next to his coach. And, although he’d somehow missed it at the time, there was photographic proof of the fact that Yuuri had put an arm around him.

He never went to Mari for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to go on a 3 week hiatus, or it will be 3 weeks of very slow updates, I'm not sure which. Hopefully, getting chapter 8 faster compensates for this a little bit.


	9. Unspoken

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own and so Victor put on smiles and did his best to be cheerful in the hopes that no one else would know, but each time Chris called him he’d lose his mental balance.

Chris would start the conversation with the same question: “Did you tell him yet?”

“No.”

“Listen, do you want me to talk to him?” he would offer every time.

“No!” Victor would protest.

“I can just hint… subtly.”

“Chris, you don’t know what subtle means,” Victor would remind him.

“Good, then he’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“I’d rather talk to him myself.”

“You’re not… enjoying this, are you?” Each time the amount of suspicion in Chris’s voice would increase.

Victor would sigh each time, say “good night” and hang up.

 

It was another morning in the ice rink. Victor stood on the ice and listened to his coach talk about changing the jumps. He made notes on a small notepad as he spoke. His hair fell forward into his eyes.

_If I could just…_ Victor leaned forward and tried to brush the hair out of his coach’s face. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to him just how close he’d get to Yuuri when he did this, or what it would be like to look into that face when there was no hair in the way.

He turned away in embarrassment. _How could I do this to myself?_

“I-is it getting that long?” Yuuri asked.

Victor didn’t know what to say. His coach sounded embarrassed and he wondered if there was some rule about touching other people’s hair that he wasn’t aware of. He pulled himself together as best he could.

“Y-your hair is fine, coach! Perfect, even!” The words had slipped out of their own accord and he put a hand over his mouth before more could follow.

Yuuri stared at him.

“I-I’m going to practice!” Victor exclaimed, turning away and cursing himself. _Stupid! Stupid! Someone just kill me now!_

“Victor, wait!”

He turned around.

“You need to listen to this: I was talking about your jump composition. I need you to decide if you agree with me or not.”

Victor bit his lip and nodded.

“So if we change…” Yuuri went on, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened.

Victor stood in front of him, trying to listen. _I love you,_ he thought, despite his best efforts not to. _I can’t help it. I love you desperately._

Yuuri stopped talking and stared at him in surprise. “I-is that so?”

Had he said those words aloud? It felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his head all at once. He turned away. “I-I… ah… I need to go to the bathroom!”

No, he couldn’t have said it aloud? Could he? Did he?

Did he really just confess as his coach went through the jumps for his routine?

 

He returned an hour later, unable to take the uncertainty anymore. He would just say it, and then he’d know for certain that he’d said it.

But when he got back Yuuri was going through Agape with a changed jump composition. Something else was different about the routine, but Victor couldn’t tell what it was.

The music ended, but Yuuri kept going.

_He belongs on the ice,_ Victor thought. _What am I doing, keeping him as a coach?_

Yuuri turned around and smiled at him. “Ah! There you are! What do you think of this jump composition? I can go through it again.”

No, he hadn’t said it aloud. _You see me, but you look through me, but maybe it’s better this way. Who knows what you’d do if you knew how I feel? If you send me away, I think I’ll die._

“Come here,” Yuuri said. “Tell me what you think.”

Victor joined him on the ice.

Practice continued as it always did, but something was different, and Victor wondered if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

When they got off the ice at the end of the day Yuuri took his hand. But he always did that, didn’t he?

They walked back home afterwards. The evenings were colder now, but he barely felt the difference. Beside him Yuuri shivered. Victor wished he could offer his coat. Instead he stopped, took both of his coach’s hands in his, and rubbed them between his fingers.

“Th-Thank you.”

They were really close now. He didn’t even notice that they’d stopped halfway on the bridge or that cars sped by, occasionally illuminating them with their headlights.

_Say it now,_ he told himself.

There was a softness in Yuuri’s eyes he’d never seen before.

“Coach,” he whispered and knew he’d started out wrong. Licking his lips, he tried to fix his mistake, “Yuuri…”

A car went by, honking loudly and startling him.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around him the moment he’d instinctively jumped into Yuuri’s embrace.

‘What did you want to say?” Yuuri asked.

“Ah!” Victor pulled away. “N-nothing. It’s not… It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

_No._ “Yes.” He turned away and walked onwards to Yuuri’s house.

Yuuri followed him, not pressing the issue.

_I’m an idiot, a stupid, stupid idiot._

“Have you packed everything?” Yuuri asked as they neared the house. “You might not have time tomorrow.”

Victor felt his blood run cold. It was time to compete on his home soil. This meant that he couldn’t avoid Yakov any longer. He stopped. He’d have Yuuri with him, though, so it would all be fine, he was sure.

It would be fine. Nothing could go wrong.


	10. True Agape

For the first time in that skating season the press ignored Yuuri Katsuki in favour of Victor Nikiforov. They surrounded him, and asked all kinds of awkward questions, the subject of most of which was Yakov Feltsman, Victor’s former coach. They were the kind of questions that required tact, and a selective memory that would conveniently forget programs that weren’t challenging enough. He wasn’t a bad coach, but for whatever reason he didn’t take Victor seriously enough. Years went by and Victor would never get the kind of program that would win gold. Yakov liked to focus his attention on his most promising students and Victor never made it to that list.

And so he stood in the hotel’s lobby, in the certain knowledge that Yuuri was behind him, listening to the interview with interest, trying to come up with a decent answer.

He talked at length about inspiration, different coaching styles, and trying something new.

And then they sprung the trap.

“What do you think of Yuri Plisetsky?”

He smiled. He was ready for this one. “I look forward to competing against him.”

“What about your coach? You mentioned earlier that he’s merely taking this season off to coach you. Does this imply that he will return in the next season, and does that mean that you are going to compete against him? How do you feel about that?” And that was the real trap.

Victor looked at Yuuri. “My coach –”

“—Is not planning to return,” Yuuri cut in firmly. “My pupil misspoke earlier.”

“But –” the reporter began.

“I’m sorry, but my pupil will not be answering any more questions. He needs to rest.” Yuuri led Victor away and Victor noticed how calm and collected his coach was. There was only one word for it.

“That was so cool, coach!” He exclaimed in the elevator.

Yuuri brushed Victor’s hair aside. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked softly.

“Ah! Y-yes!”

“Can I do your makeup this time?”

They were so close. All he needed to do was go up on tiptoe and –

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the right floor.

Yuuri led Victor to his room. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Victor stood by his door and watched Yuuri leave. “See… you.”

“So that is your new coach?” The question was followed by the appearance of the speaker himself: Yuri Plisetsky, who was making his senior debut that year. He scoffed. “Do you also stare at each other like that while you skate?”

Victor blushed, but didn’t answer.

“Listen, I don’t know what you were thinking when you ran off and, frankly, I don’t care. The gold medal is mine, so why don’t you save yourself the embarrassment and –”

Victor opened the door to his room, went inside and closed it behind him.

“Oy! Victor! I’m talking to you!” Yuri protested.

 

It was the morning of the competition. Victor sat in Yuuri’s room. Yuuri stood over him, one hand on Victor’s face and the other – holding a brush. Victor tired hard to think of something else, _anything_ else, anything at all that didn’t include his coach, how close he was, or how his concentrated expression needed, for some unknown reason, to include him sticking a little bit of his tongue out.

But what else was there to think about? In that moment he didn’t know.

Yuuri removed his glasses and leaned down closer. Now Victor could feel his breath on his face.

_Oh God, I think I’m going to kiss him._

“There we go.” Yuuri stepped back and put his glasses back on.

Victor realized he’d forgotten how to breathe in the previous two minutes. He drew a deep breath and went to look in the bathroom mirror. He waited for the blood to drain from his face. His heart was still convinced that he was running in a race, no matter how many deep breaths he took.

It wasn’t fair. Probably. He wasn’t sure what was what anymore.

If someone flirted with you without realizing it, did it count as a flirt? Yuuri was suddenly so nice to him and he wondered what he’d done to deserve such bliss.

They went hand in hand. A feeling kept nagging at Victor, making his heart race.

Only when he went out onto the ice for that morning’s practice did he realize what it was: he was terrified. Yakov watched him and he was all too aware of what the Russian coach thought of him.

_Well, Vitya, you got what you wanted. Are you happy? Was it as you imagined it?_

_Yes, a million times, yes._

When he left the ice Yuuri was waiting for him and he wondered how much of his inner turmoil his coach could see. They didn’t say much to each other until it was Victor’s turn to skate.

“Think about Agape,” Yuuri told him. “Forget about everything else,” and he pulled Victor into an embrace.

The audience greeted him with cheers as he skated onto the ice.

_Today I skate for you, coach. They can say what they want, but your opinion is still the only one that matters._

_The more I know you, the stronger I love you. I’m grateful for every weakness I find, because it means I can do something for you._

The jumps and spins came so naturally one after the other he barely had to think about them.

_No one knows you like I do, coach, but even I don’t know everything. I want to know everything and I want to be your strength. Please keep me by your side._

The music ended just as he ran out of words. He turned to look at his coach.

Yuuri had a smile on his face. He held out his arms.

Victor skated across the ice not stopping until he was right in front of Yuuri.

“That was Agape, right coach?”

Yuuri took his head in his hands and kissed him.

_How could I ever think of him as cold? His lips are so warm! Please don’t let go of me. I want – no, I need this to go on forever._

Yuuri pulled away and the smile was still there on his face. “That was perfect and absolutely beautiful.”

His hands were still on Victor’s face and he must have felt Victor’s cheeks burn.

“Oy! Are you going to let anyone else skate today, or what?”

Yuri Plisetsky pushed his way past them.

Coach Yuuri took Victor to the kiss and cry, his hands still around his pupil.

_This… this is heaven. This is worth everything in the world._

“Victor Nikiforov’s score is –”

He wasn’t listening. Someone near him was saying something, but he barely heard that too. He was suddenly aware of the fact that his coach was kissing his hand.

Yuuri was staring into his face with an intensity he’d never seen before.

“I… ah…” He didn’t know where to look. The scoreboard caught his eye.

101.13 points

He stared at it in disbelief and then he stared at Yuuri. He’d never scored over 100 points before!

“I expect you to break my record at the finals after a performance like that,” he whispered.

Victor just nodded.

On the ice Yuri Plisetsky was going through his short program.

He felt light-headed while watching the Russian Yuri. The light-headedness lasted even while Yuuri led him out of the kiss and cry. He felt as if someone had replaced his head with a bag of cotton.

Yuuri’s phone rang. Victor realized they’d been holding hands the whole time only when Yuuri let go to reach for his phone.

“Hello? Oh, Minako!”

Minako hadn’t come with them to the Rostelecom Cup and Victor wondered if she wanted to congratulate him on his short program. He looked at Yuuri’s face and watched all traces of happiness drain away from it. Victor grabbed his arm.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“I have to go back,” Yuuri said quietly.

Victor was close enough to hear Minako protest against this. “Yuuri! You can’t do anything! I’m telling you: the doctors say she’ll be fine.”

“No. I am leaving tonight.”

“Why? Why do you need to go?” Victor asked.

“Mari is in the hospital. She needs an operation. I’m going. I need to be by her side. I’ve neglected my family for too long.” He stopped abruptly, as if the next words got caught in his throat and stared at Victor. “No… no, I can’t. I have to stay here.”

Maybe there was something in Victor’s face that reflected the pang of fear, abandonment and panic he’d felt as Yuuri spoke, but he swallowed it down and smiled.

“Don’t be silly, coach! You must go,” he said it as if not going was unthinkable. “It’s Mari! You need to make sure she’s okay. I trust you to make sure she’s okay.”

Yuuri gave him a surprised look. He’d probably expected Victor to demand he stayed. How little he knew his own pupil! “But… I can’t just go. I can’t abandon you on your own before your free skate.”

“I will be just fine,” Victor assured him, putting on a smile and feeling his heart sink. It would help him, wouldn’t it? He would really be able to get his message across.

“But you need a coach, at least a temporary one to be by your side when you skate.” Yuuri looked around. “Yakov used to be your coach, maybe…” the decision made, he walked up to Victor’s previous coach.

“Yakov Feltsman,” he said, and bowed, “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I was wondering if –”

“Wait! Wait!” Victor protested. “I’m not agreeing to this!”

Yuuri stopped talking and stared at him. “But you need a coach, Victor.”

“I’ll be fine on my own!” _It’s you or no one. I made that decision a long time ago._

“But –” Yuuri began.

“I’ll be fine!” Victor repeated.

Yuuri gave a heavy sigh. “I can’t leave you all alone.”

“I’ll be just fine,” Victor said for the third time.

Yakov stepped in at this point. “I can help –”

“No!” Victor exclaimed. “Don’t…” _Don’t abandon me with_ him _, coach. Anyone but him._

But Yuuri was looking at Yakov and missed Victor’s pleading expression. “Thank you.” He bowed again.

Victor felt as if every single holiday for the next hundred years had just been cancelled.

 _Coach, please I don’t want you to go._ He thought of Mari and the kindness she showed him during his time in Hasetsu. _But I can’t ask you to stay._ _You better protect her for both of us._

Yuuri was on the phone, trying to book tickets for a flight in several hours.

“Looks like you’re back where you started,” Yuri Plisetsky muttered next to him. “Admit it: your has-been just isn’t coach material.”

With the worst timing imaginable the audience cheered and applauded.

Jean-Jacques scores were announced immediately after and Victor Nikiforov was no longer in the lead.

 

They said their good-byes in the hotel lobby.

“I’m sorry I have to run off like this,” Yuuri apologized, “but you’re right – you can skate even if I’m not there.” In a lower tone of voice that wasn’t quite under his breath he added, “You don’t get anxious like I do.”

Victor straightened up the moment he heard those words.

“Look after Mari,” he said. “And… let me know how the operation goes.”

Yuuri lowered his head. He looked ready to cry. Victor put his arms around him.

“I will skate for you.” The words left his mouth without passing through his brain first. “And I will be with you in spirit.” _I’m consoling him, but who will console me?_

“I don’t know what to say. If I could be in two places at once…”

With one last look, Yuuri walked out, leaving Victor to face the free skate alone.


	11. The Wrong Choice

Mari woke up after her operation to find a familiar figure asleep in the chair by her bed. What was Yuuri doing here? How long had she been asleep for?

She wanted to wake him up, and have him answer her questions, but he looked so exhausted that she lay still, and waited until he would wake up on his own.

He nodded in his sleep and jerked awake.

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

“Good morning, Mari!” he exclaimed.

“Is the Rostelecom Cup over?”

He looked at his watch and she knew the answer to all of her questions in that instant. “It should be –”

“Yuuri! What are you doing here? You should be there – with Victor!”

“He’ll be fine,” Yuuri argued. “He doesn’t really need me to be there.”

“You can’t really think that! Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?”

Yuuri coloured at those words. “P-please, Mari, the doctors said –”

Mari sighed. “They said I’ll be fine. You didn’t need to come.” She saw the hurt look on his face and added, “Thank you. I appreciate it, I really do, but… you’re a coach, Yuuri. Your pupil is counting on you.” She watched him lower his head and debated if she should say the next words. “ _Have_ you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“You _have_ ,” she whispered. She watched him, trying to guess what he was thinking. It was hard to read his face. He’d learned to hide his emotions in his time as a figure skater. She just hoped he hadn’t learned how to be cold-hearted as well.

He tried to smile at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright.”

He took her hand and now there was a genuine smile on his face.

_Whatever you feel for Victor, I can see he’s healed most of your wounds. How can I ever thank him?_

 

Yakov stood next to Victor as his former pupil prepared to go out on the ice. He wondered what to say. Victor had been very direct about the way he felt about his former coach. Even if he hadn’t ranted at Yakov before he’d gone to Japan, just the simple act of avoiding him in the morning’s practice had been enough.

_“You’re always holding me back as if I’m not ready! I’ll never be ready at this rate! I want to skate a difficult program! I want to skate something that will win gold!”_

Watching Victor skate Agape, Yakov had to concede that the skater had been right. Maybe he should’ve paid him more attention, but who knew he could open up like that? He always thought Victor won the audience over with just his charm, but now he could see that it was talent as well. And he’d missed it. How? Because he didn’t think Victor was serious about skating, because he would fool around, and skip practice to watch videos of his idol’s skating routines, because… But even he had to concede that none of these reasons were good enough.

He should’ve done something, he should’ve seen the potential and made Victor work harder.

“Good luck.”

Victor turned around. His eyes were red. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. And he was very angry. The anger was held in check, but Yakov could see it bubbling under the surface.

“Don’t wish me luck!” Victor countered. “I’ll be fine without you wishing me luck!”

“Not in that mood you can’t.”

Victor turned away. He was ready to snap.

“Listen, I admit that I was wrong. Come back, Vitya. I’ll make you the biggest figure skating legend that ever lived.”

“Go away.” He let out a slow breath. “I can do this alone,” he said quietly. “I always used to do this alone, so it’s like before, right?”

He was upset. Yakov decided not to press the issue.

_Good luck,_ he thought. _I may not be your coach anymore, but I am still sorry to see a talent like yours go to waste._

Victor’s free skate was just short of a disaster. He was tired (and he’d never had much stamina), he was upset, and in the entirely wrong mood for his program. He never had problems motivating himself before, but now he’d lost the ability to do so.

He’d scraped into third place on a technicality.

He sat in the kiss and cry without a word. The moment the scores were announced he got up and left.

“Too ambitious…” someone whispered in the hall and, although he’d thought the same thing during the Cup of China, Yakov realized his point of view had changed.

_No, he can do more. He can do much more. Can Yuuri Katsuki fix my mistake?_

 

The flight was infinitely long and they spent forever leaving the plane. Victor worried about the welcome Yuuri would give him. He’d thought – they’d both thought – he could face the free skate on his own, but it turned out that he couldn’t. He felt like he’d let Yuuri down. He imagined the frown on Yuuri’s face when he watched Victor’s skating on television.

When he walked out, he spotted Yuuri through the glass right away. His coach sat with Yurka at his feet, a tried and sad expression on his face.

Yurka noticed him first and bolted to the glass, barking excitedly. Victor kept going. Yuuri got up and rushed to the exit at the same moment Victor did on his side of the glass. The doors slid open and he ran at his coach, forgetting everything and only glad to be reunited with him at last.

Yuuri’s arms were wrapped around him and his face was buried in Victor’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Victor,” he said quietly. “I made a mistake. I should’ve stayed with you.”

“How is Mari?” Victor asked.

“Better, much better. She wants to go to the final with Minako.” He pulled away and looked into Victor’s eyes. He held both of Victor’s hands in his. “I’ve had some time to think about it…” He paused uncertainly and Victor wondered what he was going to say next. “…I want to continue being your coach for as long as you are willing to keep me.”

_Forever,_ Victor thought. _If you could stay by my side forever, I can endure anything._

“What do you think?”

“I want you to be my coach,” Victor said, “until I retire.”

Yuuri pulled him into a hug. Victor felt a strong heartbeat against his chest and wondered if it was Yuuri’s heart or his own. “I will do my best to look after you…” He hesitated and added, “Viten’ka.”

If he said anything else after that Victor didn’t hear it.


	12. We’ll Always Have

Barcelona was warm in comparison to St. Petersburg in December. This was why Victor left his coach to sleep off his jet lag and snuck away to the pool on the roof of the hotel.

Five minutes later he was sneezing from the cold.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” a familiar voice said, and Victor looked up to find Chris standing by the pool. “Cold enough for you?”

“Hello, Chris!”

“Where’s your coach?” Chris looked around, as if expecting to see Yuuri appear out of thin air.

“Sleeping.”

“That explains why you’re here.” Chris winked, and Victor wondered if there was a hidden meaning in those words. “Don’t try to look innocent, I’m not going to believe you anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

Chris gave him a look. “Do you _really_ not know what I’m talking about?”

“No.”

Chris sighed. “You’re a hopeless case, Victor.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that I haven’t told him yet –”

“You haven’t told him? I assumed when I saw that kiss that you _did_.”

“I…” Victor turned away so that Chris wouldn’t see his face. “I _might_ have told him.”

“Might? How do you _maybe_ tell someone? Did you hit your head and forget? …Or did you say ‘Yuuri, I maybe love you’?” He impersonated Victor’s voice as he said those words.

“I… never mind.”

“Now I’m curious. What did you do?”

Victor knew Chris well enough to see that he wasn’t going to leave him alone until he was satisfied. “Do you ever think something so strongly you feel like you said it out loud?”

“No… but I think I know what you mean.” Chris took his bathrobe off and joined Victor in the pool. “How about I make you a sign if you still can’t say it?”

“Knowing you it will say something rude.”

Chris laughed. “Let’s take some photos together.”

 

Yuuri spent his first few minutes of consciousness trying to remember where he was. He let it all slowly come back to him as he stared at the empty bed at the other end of the room.

Barcelona, right.

Where was Victor?

Before he could reach for his phone there was a knock on the door after which it opened to reveal Victor and Chris standing in the hallway. Victor was shivering in his swimming trunks with a towel draped over his shoulders.

“I’m freezing, coach! Can you run me a hot bath?”

Chris was in a bathrobe, looking relaxed. “Can you make me a coffee?”

“Were you still sleeping?” Victor asked, noticing that his coach was lying on the bed in his pajamas.

Yuuri sat up and put his glasses on. “I’m awake.” He picked up Victor’s discarded coat from the other bed and held it out to him. “Put this on for now before you catch a cold.”

Victor put his arms around Yuuri, clinging to his right side. Chris grabbed Yuuri from the left.

“Ah!” Yuuri exclaimed. “You guys are cold! Don’t cling to me!” He wrenched himself free of Chris’s grasp and put Victor’s coat over his pupil’s shoulders. “Come on, Victor,” he said gently, “I can’t make you a bath if you’re clinging to me.”

Victor released him. Yuuri went into the bathroom as a whispered argument broke out between the two skaters.

“Don’t you dare!” Victor said loud enough for him to hear and then their voices dropped in volume again.

Yuuri wondered what they were arguing about as he filled the bathtub with hot water. When he got back the skaters were going through photos on Chris’s phone.

“Your bath is ready, Victor,” Yuuri said as he went to make Chris coffee.

Victor went into the bath.

“I was just kidding about the coffee,” Chris said.

“That’s alright. I think I might have some myself.” He filled up the coffee maker while Chris continued to go through his photos.

“I have a good one of Victor. What do you think, Yuuri?” He held out his phone and Yuuri took in the sight of Victor floating on the water with his eyes closed.

“I’m not surprised he’s freezing…”

“What about this one?” Chris flicked through them one by one.

But before he could get through all of them, before Yuuri could think of anything else neutral-sounding to say a string of curses left the bathroom.

In the best traditions of all intelligent beings everywhere Yuuri rushed in without thinking, while simultaneously asking, “Are you alright?”

Victor stared up at him from the centre of a sea of bubbles. “I… I wanted a bubble bath, but I dropped the stupid bottle.”

His head was covered by a little hill of bubbles. He held up an empty bottle, and a mountain range of bubbles shifted with his arm. Yuuri took the bottle with a smile.

 

Chris poured himself a cup of coffee as the bathroom filled with laughter and bubbles. Anyone else would have slipped out discretely at this point, but he was curious. He didn’t want to spoil anything, and was trying to figure out when was a good time to take a look in the bathroom.

The laughter died down. He crept up to the bathroom door and pulled it soundlessly towards himself.

The sight that greeted him was so innocent he had to bite down the urge to make a comment. Victor reclined in the bathtub with his eyes closed while Yuuri sat on the ledge behind him and washed his hair.

It was one of those little moments that when summed up together gave big moments (or, alternatively, if planted and looked after had the potential to grow up into a big moment) and Chris had a thought he’d only had once in his entire life.

It was about furniture.

 

When Victor left the bathroom, feeling warm and at peace, he found Yuuri sitting alone on his bed.

“Did Chris leave already?”

“Yes. He said he was going to check out the nightlife.”

_ Of course he is, _ Victor thought. He tried to shake the mental image of Christophe checking out the nightlife from his mind and failed. He dropped into the only chair in the room and dried his hair.

“Chris said something before he left that got me thinking…”

Victor froze on the spot.

Yuuri got up and crossed to the door that led to the hall and opened it.

It was possible that Yuuri’s actions had let in a draft, but Victor would’ve felt a chill even if it had been the middle of the summer.

Yuuri swung the door back and forth a couple of times and then closed it.

“He’s absolutely right: every time the door opens it hits the bed.”

Victor wondered if Yuuri would remember that when they checked into the room this wasn’t the case. He was mentally going through the conversation he’d undoubtedly have with Chris the next day.

“We could switch beds…” Yuuri muttered and Victor was suddenly aware of just how disappointed he was by this solution.

“B-but…” he started to protest, trying to think of a valid excuse, “…then _you_ will be bothered by the door!”

“True. Do you think we can switch the bedside table and this bed around?”

Victor jumped at this idea before Yuuri thought of a third solution to their very serious problem. After all, there was a lot of room between the other bed and the window.

He moved the beds closer than was strictly necessary, but Yuuri didn’t seem to notice.

 

Yuuri awoke in the middle of the night because Victor was clutching his hand really tightly. He tried to pull it away, but only managed to pull Victor closer. He turned his wrist to see if he could break Victor’s grip that way, but had no luck.

Could he wake him? Victor wasn’t competing the next day.

_ I’ll make it up to you,  _ he promised Victor and leaned over him.

But the skater looked so at peace that Yuuri didn’t have the heart to do it. He lowered his head onto his pillow and tried to ignore the fact that his hand was going numb.

Victor’s grip loosened slightly and Yuuri pulled his hand away. After a minute he reached out and took Victor’s hand. Slowly he drifted off.

 

It was the evening of the following day and they’d done a circuit of the typical tourist attractions. The sky was dark, but it wasn’t late enough to go back to the hotel yet.

Victor watched Yuuri, wondering where they were going to end up next. Yuuri had visited Barcelona four times before during the course of his skating career and so ended up acting as Victor’s guide in the city. The coach hesitated for a while and then turned onto a street and continued walking as if he was looking for something.

“There was a place here somewhere…” Yuuri said uncertainly. “Ah! There it is!”

Victor followed him into a small building the inside of which reminded him of a café. People sat at small round tables. All of them were facing a stage that took up a third of the room.

Yuuri found a free table and explained as they removed their coats and took their seats. “A Spanish skater took me here once. And I’ve returned several times since to find inspiration for future routines.”

They sat in silence for a while and then a woman walked out onto the stage, said something in Spanish and the audience applauded. Another woman walked out, several guitarists took their places behind her and started to play. She sang as she danced. Victor couldn’t understand a single word, but the pain and passion was evident enough in her voice and dance. He snuck a look at his coach. Yuuri sat with a sad look on his face.

Over the next hour the lady danced with barely a break for breath and Victor would keep looking at his coach. Something was troubling him. The cold marble-like exterior broke to reveal something tender and weak underneath, and Yuuri cried. Tears poured down his face and he didn’t even notice.

Victor put a hand over Yuuri’s, but the other man’s eyes were glued to the dance. He was lost in a world of his own. Victor couldn’t watch it any longer. He got up, walked around the small table and leaned over Yuuri.

“Why are you crying?” he whispered.

“Ah! I’m… I’m not…” He closed his eyes and whispered. “I am…”

Around them people muttered angrily.

“Let’s go,” Victor whispered, pulling Yuuri to his feet. They took their things and stepped out into the night air.

Still the tears rolled down Yuuri’s cheeks. He tried to wipe them away with his palm. “I-I… I don’t know… I don’t understand…”

Victor held him close. “I do.” He put Yuuri’s hands around himself and looked into his face. “What is it? Why are you in so much pain? What happened?”

“N-nothing.”

Evidently something did, and something about the dance or song had triggered a memory. Victor had a hunch that he already knew part of the answer.

“What happened with the press, Yuuri?” he whispered.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was fear in his face now, not just pain.

Victor clutched him close and pressed his face against Yuuri’s shoulder.

For a while neither of them said anything and then Victor asked as gently as he could, “What did they do to you?”

Yuuri shifted uncomfortably. He tried to pull away, but Victor still held him. He was trying to retreat back into himself, but this time Victor was determined not to let him.

“They… They were looking for a story…” Victor pulled back just enough to look into his face. “…They wanted something really scandalous to sell papers. I was in Detroit with Phichit at the time… I don’t know why they picked us.” The tears still rolled down Yuuri’s face, but he kept talking. Once he started he didn’t seem to be able to stop and everything tumbled out of him all at once and not really in the right order. “Maybe we walked down the wrong street and caught someone’s eye and they jumped to conclusions. But they decided to write an article about us that had nothing to do with figure skating…” He paused for breath. “I’d never been asked such questions in my life. Phichit threatened legal action, but they talked about the freedom of the press, so he went to someone else and they hushed the whole incident up.” He frowned. “I’m still not sure how he did that.”

Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s chest.

“I was terrified of the press afterwards. I was never really good with them. I was always afraid I’d say the wrong thing, or they’d write it down wrong and then publish it. They were vicious to us then, attacking us on all sides, misunderstanding us on purpose, twisting our words to give them a new meaning…” He took a shaky breath.

“But you’re not so bad at talking to them now,” Victor said.

“Maybe I’m finally getting over it.” Victor raised his head and looked into Yuuri’s face. “You helped me with that,” Yuuri went on. “I don’t mind facing them when you’re by my side.”

_ Now. I have to say it now. _ “I’ll do anything for you, Yuuri.”

“I know.” He brushed Victor’s hair out of his face.

_ Kiss me again, _ Victor thought.

“It’s getting late,” Yuuri whispered. “Let’s go back.”

They walked away to the hotel.

_ Damn! Why didn’t I say it? And, why didn’t I kiss him? _


	13. That Kind of Relationship

“You think you can act like you’re the one to beat in this competition because of your has-been coach who was too scared to keep competing himself?” Yuri taunted and Victor backed away against a wall.

It was the morning of the short program and Yuuri had left to speak to someone.

“You’re running out of second chances, Victor, make it count or this will be the last season for both of you.”

“Th-that’s not –” Victor started to protest when suddenly Yuri Plisetsky rose so that his face was higher than Victor’s.

Yuuri Katsuki was standing behind the Russian Yuri, holding him up by the armpits.

“Let go of me, old man! I’ll kill you for this!” Plisetsky screamed.

Victor panicked. “Y-Yuuri, what are you doing? Put him down!”

“Sorry, puppies tend to pick fights when they’re restless,” Yuuri apologized. “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

Plisetsky kicked and screamed until Yuuri put him down, and then bolted down the hallway as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Yuuri –” Victor began, but was interrupted again.

The press stormed in from the other side of the hall. They surrounded the skater and his coach, cutting off all routes of escape. Victor straightened up. He felt like the main character of a movie in which an army attacks and then loses disgracefully to the hero.

A lady stepped forward and asked them a few questions. They were the standard kind of questions and Victor felt himself relax, but something felt wrong, as if everyone from the press knew that something big was coming. Beside him Yuuri remained quiet, leaving all of the talking to him.

“Yuuri Katsuki, during the Rostelecom Cup when Victor Nikiforov completed his short program you kissed him. Can you please comment on this? What is the nature of your relationship?”

“Yuuri and I are –” Victor began, not knowing how that sentence was going to end.

Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder and took a microphone from one of the reporters. “May I?” he asked softly.

Victor froze.

“Victor and I are in the kind of relationship where we love each other,” Yuuri answered calmly, and there wasn’t even a hint of a blush in his face.

Victor stared.

“That’s all the questions we’re answering today.” He led Victor away. Behind them the reporters burst out all at once, chattering excitedly, apparently not bothered by the fact that both skaters had left. Several steps later, he changed the topic as if he hadn’t just turned Victor’s life upside down with one sentence, “For today’s short program…”

He talked about the short program for a good ten minutes while Victor felt everything build up inside him. He had no idea what his coach was saying, and he wasn’t even trying to listen. How could he do something like this?

Yuuri’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Oh. Phichit says we’re trending. This is why I don’t do interviews… every time…”

Only then did he notice that Victor was quiet. They stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at each other.

“You’re mad…”

“Yes! How could you tell the world you love me when you haven’t even told _me_ you love me?” Victor exclaimed, unable to hold himself back anymore.

“I thought it was obvious? I kissed you on live television.”

_I spent so much time unable to say a word and you knew all that time!_ “Not good enough!” He turned away. “I want you to say it for every reporter there who got to hear it first!” _And, kiss me again._

“I love you,” Yuuri said, but there was a hint of a question in his voice.

Victor stood still. How many reporters had been there? Would he do it?

“I love you,” Yuuri said again, taking Victor’s sudden outburst seriously even though Victor had expected him to just brush it aside, to do what Yakov had always done and call it a tantrum.

_Oh my god, he’s confessing to me!_ Victor thought as the reality of the situation sank in. _He’s actually confessing to me! In a serious tone of voice and everything!_

“I love you.” Yuuri’s hands were on his shoulders.

_I can’t turn around now. If I look at him, I won’t be angry anymore._

“I love you.” Yuuri was embracing him from behind now.

_Say it for every single time I couldn’t,_ Victor thought, feeling his face turn red.

Yuuri’s lips were next to his ear and he whispered it this time, “I love you.”

Victor mouthed the words without thinking. His heart was beating fast.

Someone was coming down the hall, or maybe his blood was pounding in his ears, he didn’t know. He didn’t care.

Sometimes it’s easier to make the second step when someone else has made the first one for you. It all depends on the direction of the steps. All it takes to go down a staircase quickly, for example, is one badly judged first step.

Victor caught Yuuri in a kiss.

For several minutes he didn’t think about anything at all.

Yuuri pulled away and put a hand on Victor’s mouth. “Y-you’re competing in less than an hour.”

“Kiss me again.”

“What about Agape?”

“You’re my Agape.”

There was a smile on Yuuri’s face. “Should I take that as a confession?” His smile broadened. “Or is it my turn to ask you to say it several times? You didn’t even say it the first time.”

“F-first time?”

Yuuri slid a finger down Victor’s nose. “Did you really think I missed that?”

Victor remembered the banquet, and the man he thought had only existed for that one night. In that moment he was convinced that if Yuuri Katsuki flirted with mountains, they’d blush.

“Has anyone ever told you that watching you blush is an education in shades of red and pink?”

Victor opened his mouth and with impeccable timing someone shouted, “There you are!” from behind them.

They both turned.

Phichit walked down the hall towards them. He hesitated for a second, and then kept going. “Thank goodness! I was wondering where you guys ran off to! Are you going to participate in the Grand Prix, or…?” He left the question hanging in the air, unfinished.

“Yes,” Yuuri led Victor down the hall and Phichit followed, chuckling to himself.

 

Victor stood on the ice in front of his coach. Yuuri trailed his fingers through Victor’s hair as if fixing it.

“Concentrate on Agape,” Yuuri said.

“Yuuri?”

“You’ve stopped calling me coach.” Yuuri sounded very pleased with this.

Victor lowered his eyes and the colour rose to his cheeks.

Yuuri could see he wanted to ask for something, but couldn’t find the courage. “If you break my record,” he whispered, “I will grant you any wish you like.”

“Really?” Victor asked, turning even redder.

“Yes. Anything.” Yuuri wondered what Victor could possibly ask for. He always enjoyed watching Yuuri skate, and for a moment he frowned. Victor wasn’t going to ask him to return to competitive skating was he? But it was too late to back out now. He nodded and repeated his promise.

Victor took Yuuri’s right hand and kissed it, whether by accident or on purpose his lips touched Yuuri’s ring finger.

It was Yuuri’s turn to blush. “Oh.”

Victor released him and skated onto the ice.

“Representing the Russian Federation: Victor Nikiforov!”

Victor stopped and waited for the music to start. From the first second to the last he moved with the music, each gesture, each jump and spin flowing naturally.

_Agape: selfless love, sacrificing everything for your lover, only caring about their happiness. I never thought anyone would feel this way about me._

Victor’s skating really moved Yuuri. He’d seen many people skate, but no one came close to the way Victor skated Agape that time. Yuuri ran out of words to describe it. Beautiful? Graceful? He’d used them all and they were all inadequate.

_If you ask the question, I’ll say yes,_ Yuuri thought, _but I dare not offer you myself. I don’t think I would make a good spouse._

Victor spun around and dashed across the ice. There was a sense of something delicate, fragile as he spun.

_This works best with a younger man. Someone naïve and innocent like Victor is perfect for this part. How could we ever think this wasn’t within his comfort zone?_

His heart beat faster, ready to burst. Victor had taken all of his devotion and poured it out onto the ice, not holding back.

_How do I repay such strong feelings? Why did you choose me, Victor? What do you see in me? What can I give you?_

One spin followed another, and as Yuuri watched he became more certain he’d done the right thing in changing the order of the jumps. It made the most of Victor’s strengths, leaving the challenging tasks to the free skate.

Victor raised his hands and the music ended. Yuuri had a sudden vision of the next program for him. They would definitely keep surprising the audience for as long as possible.

Victor turned to look at him, as always looking for an evaluation of his skate. How was it? What did Yuuri Katsuki think?

Yuuri nodded with a smile. _Time to get your scores Victor._ He held out his hands and Victor rushed to him.

They sat in the kiss and cry and Victor fidgeted nervously.

“That was your best skate of Agape yet!” Yuuri said, putting an arm on Victor’s shoulder.

“But what do the judges think?”

“And the score for Victor Nikiforov is –”

They stared at the scoreboard.

“—105.34! He is currently in first place!”

Victor got up with a sigh. Not more than the world record. Yuuri followed him out.

“Victor…”

“That wasn’t good enough,” he said quietly. “That’s all I need to know.”

_Not good enough? That was amazing!_ But Yuuri remained silent.

Victor had set his heart on something and he was determined to get it.

They watched Christophe skate from the seats. They still hadn’t said a word about Victor’s short program. Seeing Victor’s face, Yuuri was hesitant to bring up the subject. Yuuri followed Chris with interest. Here was the competition and he wanted to get a full measure of it for the future. For Victor’s future. He reached out without thinking and took Victor’s hand. Victor looked at him.

“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed watching a skating competition so much.”

Victor stared down at his feet.

“No more smiles? No more enthusiasm?”

Victor raised his head and stared him in the eye. “I want to beat your record, Yuuri.”

“There is always the free skate.”

Chris finished and they applauded politely. They announced his score, and he was several points behind Victor.

“Phichit is next,” Yuuri said and realized that even Phichit’s performance would appear different to him now.

When Yuuri had competed they would always support each other, despite the fact that they competed against one another.

Phichit was a skater with several years of competitions behind him. For a while Yuuri and Phichit would alternate between gold and silver and even then there was never a sense of rivalry between them. Phichit was always the favourite of the two, while skating fans never seemed to agree on an opinion about Yuuri Katsuki. Phichit felt it was his duty to keep up with this ongoing debate, keep Yuuri updated and sometimes steer it gently in what he considered to be the right direction.

Phichit’s short program was aimed at Yuuri. His theme this season was friendship, which he’d once told Yuuri he considered to be more important than romance.

 

_“Romance is overrated,” Phichit said, “don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying it’s not important. It’s just that people throw everything else aside in favour of romance, but I think friendship is important too. If you ever find someone, if I ever find someone, let’s promise each other that it will never ruin our friendship, and that we won’t forget about each other.”_

_Yuuri promised._

 

That had been two years earlier. Yuuri had laughed then at the idea of romance in his life and waited for Phichit to be the first (and only one) to find it.

_I remember my promise, Phichit_ , he thought, _but don’t expect me to forget my pupil._

Phichit’s skate ended with him facing Yuuri. They exchanged a smile.

“Phichit is amazing,” Victor said quietly. “His instagram is my favourite.”

Yuuri watched Victor blush. “I… ah… I will never forget that photo he posted of you.”

_Of course._

Phichit’s scores were announced. He placed between Chris and Victor.

“You’re still in the lead,” Yuuri said.

Yuri Plisetsky was next, and Yuuri wondered how Victor felt about the rising Russian skater who everyone expected to end up on the podium. He was the favourite at the moment, with big groups of fans in Russia. He was much younger than Victor, and Yakov had poured a lot of his energy – even bringing in his ex-wife – to prepare the skater for a successful senior debut. Energy that Victor had never received from his former coach.

Victor’s expression was unreadable and Yuuri decided to avoid the topic altogether.

Plisetsky was strong and talented. It was obvious that he’d go a long way. Yuuri had seen him compete in the Juniors and felt he had to agree with those calling him the next generation of skating.

But something was lacking. He poured energy and anger into his skating, but no soul and Yuuri wondered if he knew. Skaters could usually get a feel of something lacking, if that was the case, but would Yuri know what exactly it was he lacked?

Yuri’s skating style was almost aggressive and that was probably why when they gave him his scores he was rated down on the performance score.

Yuri Plisetsky placed fourth.

Otabek followed after him. Yuuri caught the way the Kazakh skater looked at the Russian one and wondered if they ever talked to each other.

By the time it was Jean-Jacques’ turn to skate Victor was still in the lead. Jean-Jacques, the current favourite for the gold medal, the skater on whom everyone had placed so many high expectations, who always skated out onto the ice full of the kind of confidence that was almost arrogance, collapsed under all the pressure.

Yuuri watched him flub jump after jump, mouth open in astonishment.

He knew that feeling when it suddenly didn’t matter how many medals you’d earned or how many times you practiced your program. Each skate had the potential to go well and the potential to go badly. And this skate was going very badly.

Just like his had at the Worlds. He remembered giving up by the end, switching to simpler elements, and waiting for the nightmare to end.

But that wasn’t the case for Jean-Jacques. He kept fighting. He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t stop, and Yuuri felt a certain admiration for tenacity like his.

Yuuri had given up. He was going to stay in his room for the rest of his life.

But it didn’t have to end there. Life didn’t end at twenty-seven (or at twenty-eight, now he’d had his birthday and _what a birthday it had been_!).

He looked at Victor and saw pity in the man’s eyes.

_How do I show you how much you’ve given me, and that I’m grateful, eternally grateful for it?_

The men’s short program segment of the Grand Prix Finals was finished and Victor ended up in first place.

Yuuri held out his hand to congratulate him.

“I can do more, Yuuri,” Victor promised as if he’d ended up in last place. “I can do much, much more!”

“Victor, if you win gold –”

“No, we’re not changing the terms of the promise now,” he said as if they’d signed a legal contract. “I want you to –” He turned bright red, his hand over his heart, “…grant my wish because I really deserved it.”

Yuuri stared at him in surprise. “Victor, I –”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

Yuuri nodded. “Alright.”

“I want to know what more I can do. I want to be better. You always tell me that I did well when I do, but I want you to tell me how I can do better even if I do well.”

“You need to rest.”

“I want to be the best skater, Yuuri. I won’t rest until I am.”

“But, Victor –”

“You’ve given me the chance to realize my full potential and I want to. I want to surprise people, Yuuri. I want to do things people think are impossible. What’s the point of skating a program someone else can? I want to skate a program only Victor Nikiforov can!” He paused and reconsidered his words. “And Yuuri Katsuki, of course.”

Yuuri smiled at this and stood up. “Of course.”

_You’re pushing yourself further when you haven’t skated your free skate cleanly in competition even once!_

Victor must have guessed what went through his coach’s mind, because he said, “Don’t worry about me, Yuuri. If you’re by my side, I will skate it perfectly.”


	14. Yuuri Katsuki’s Birthday

November 29th was a chilly day. Yuuri awoke to a room full of presents. For the first couple of minutes, because his curtains had been drawn and his glasses weren’t on, his mind drew out different shapes in the dark and he fumbled around for his glasses, trying to make sense of it all.

The curtains parted without him moving from his bed and revealed Victor standing by the window. “Happy Birthday, Yuuri!”

“Th-thank you. Are all these from you?”

“Not _all_ of them…” Victor sat down on the edge of the bed. “But most of them.”

“How many?”

“You’ll have to open them to find out. But first!”

“First?” Yuuri wondered what new surprise he was about to get.

“Breakfast! I made pancakes and we have my grandmother’s raspberry jam.”

A jam-filled breakfast and a long opening of presents later Yuuri and Victor were on their way to the skating rink.

“Hurry up, old man!’ Victor teased.

Yuuri followed with Yurka at his heels, wondering why he had to run if he was the coach.

Yuuko met them at the ice rink. “Happy birthday, Yuuri!”

“Thank you. And thank you for the present.”

“I wanted to give it to you in person, but Victor insisted on his pile of presents.”

Yuuri noticed that Victor had already left for the change room and went after him. By the time Yuuri got there Victor was already on the ice. He smiled when he saw Yuuri, and skated around the perimeter of the rink before jumping and landing a perfect quadruple flip.

Yuuri watched in shock as Victor went around and jumped another one.

“Victor!”

“I found my signature move, coach!” And he jumped again. “What do you think?” He stopped on the ice with his hands raised.

Yuuri joined him on the ice. “You’ll be telling me you can do the quadruple axel next!”

“When I land one it will be my new signature move,” Victor said in a serious tone of voice as if it wasn’t a jump that no one had landed yet.

Yuuri laughed.

“Now I can do the four quads in my exhibition program and skate Yuri on Ice properly!”

“I wonder if we should call it something else. Victor on Ice, maybe?”

Victor stared. “But coach, it’s my tribute to you. The name is important!”

Yuuri nodded, feeling embarrassed.

Victor’s face turned red as he realized what he’d said.

Yuuri skated around him and pulled Victor along. Victor followed and they skated without music. They didn’t need any music: they’d heard the piece often enough to imagine it was playing.

Victor went through it, as always imitating Yuuri’s grace, while Yuuri circled around him and took his hands and spun him around. They were in perfect synch with each other, always anticipating what the other wanted to do next.

At some point the music really started to play, but they didn’t notice until much later.

They didn’t say a word, believing – or at least Yuuri believed – that they’d moved on beyond words. Words were for strangers, for people who barely knew each other, for friends and for family.

When they finally finished it was a 30 minute version of the original program.

Victor was exhausted, but he held onto Yuuri and stared into his eyes. Only when they tore their eyes away from each other did they see Yuuko watching them with a smile.

Yuuri knew then exactly what his feelings were and he marvelled how he hadn’t seen what Victor’s feelings were for him earlier.

They were too exhausted for anything after that and headed back home, Yurka bounded after them, glad to get a chance to be with his owner at last.

The evening would have been a quiet one except that Yuuri’s parents brought out alcohol. Yuuri watched his pupil try and fail to out-drink Minako. There was a lot of singing after that as both of them tried to teach the other one a dirty song in their native language. Somehow this resulted in a new dirty song in two different languages with an added bonus of gibberish.

When Victor decided that his clothes were getting in the way of the singing Yuuri dragged him away to sleep off the alcohol.

“You’re the best skater to ever live!” Victor told him and giggled. “No! The best… the best person!” That said he passed out.

Yuuri held him, feeling the blood rush to his face.

_ The best person? Really? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! As I post this fic the list of things I want to write just seems to get longer. There are some very bizarre AUs on that list and I apologize for that in advance. (Also, how many times can I rewrite the show before someone tells me to stop?)


	15. Stammi Vicino

Yuri Plisetsky stared at his score with dissatisfaction. It wasn’t a bad score for a senior debut, but he knew he could do better. Yakov had thrown all of his energy into Yuri’s training, but when he watched Victor Nikiforov skate the short program a voice in the back of his mind told him that he was missing something big, something important.

But what was it? What drove Victor so much that he skated in a way Yuri had never seen before. _No_ , he thought, _I_ have _seen this before at the previous Grand Prix Final. I saw just a hint of it in Yuuri Katsuki’s free skate. He caught my eye then and I find myself watching him even now, even when he’s not skating._

_ What is it? What do they have that I don’t? _

 

Chris’s turn came after Otabek’s. His mind was on Victor as he executed his jumps.

_ It looks like you’ve finally found yourself, Victor. No more running about like mad and idolizing from afar, hmm? Being in love looks fun! I need to find me someone who will motivate me like Yuuri Katsuki motivates you. After all, I can’t just chase your shadow all my life. _

 

When it was his turn Phichit’s mind was on Yuuri. _Hold on to this, Yuuri, I want you to be happy._ And then a thought made him smile as he jumped. _I want to be the best man at your wedding!_ Two successful jumps later he thought, _But I’m not going to make things easy for you or Victor._ He caught Yuuri’s eye and knew that the message had been received.

 

Victor watched everyone skate with Yuuri by his side. He followed the first four skaters on the screens and the last one – Phichit – they watched while he got ready to go himself.

The scores of the other skaters kept climbing one after the other and Victor was starting to think that he’d need to break the record anyway just to ensure he got a gold medal.

Phichit finished and Victor found himself on the ice in front of his coach.

“I want to know how to thank you, Victor,” Yuuri said and pulled him into an embrace. “You have given me a second life.”

“And Phichit Chulanont is currently in first place!”

Victor looked over to the kiss and cry to see Phichit wave at him and shout “Good luck!”

Yuuri pulled Victor closer.

_ I’m not ready! No! I … why am I getting scared now? Yuuri! _ He trembled.

Yuuri’s cheek brushed against his own as he put his lips against Victor’s ear and whispered, “I can’t wait to find out what your wish is.”

His face was red as he skated into position. _Stay close to me, Yuuri. I want you to stay close. I need you._

The music started and he remembered Yuuri skating beside him more than once and how it had almost become a duet.

_ It should be a duet,  _ he thought. _It makes more sense as a duet._

One jump followed another and then a spin and he was almost on the second half. He was starting to feel it too.

_ Stammi vicino, non te ne andare. _

_ Ho paura di perderti. _

_ Le tue mani, le tue gambe, _

_ Le mie mani, le mie gambe, _

He thought of how they’d slept: beds pushed together, hands clasped tightly as if afraid the other would disappear in the night. _I need you. I can’t go on without you by my side. I’ll endure anything for you. They can laugh at me. They can make fun of me. I don’t care._ He spun about. _They can write what they want about me._

_ If you watch me, I’ll push the boundaries of the possible.  _ He jumped the quadruple flip and landed to the sound of applause.

_ Nothing is impossible. I… I will be the skating legend in your place. When you retired you left behind a hole and I will fill it. I will put in all my effort to fill it, because I know I can never be enough. I can never replace you. _

It was almost the end. He was tired, really, really tired.

_ It’s not enough. I need more. I need another quad. If I can do this I will truly deserve you. _

“A-another quadruple flip!” the commentator shouted.

And the music ended. Victor stopped with his arms around his shoulders, tired, breathless. He collapsed.

_ Oh god, I think I’m going to die. I’m going to die right here and now. _

“What an incredible – how unbelievable!” the commentator tripped over his words in his excitement. “Truly we are seeing the birth of a legend tonight! Victor Nikiforov, ladies and gentlemen! With a free skate with five quads!”

_ I’m going to… _ Victor picked himself up and skated to the kiss and cry.

Yuuri met him with tears in his eyes. “Victor…”

“Why are you crying?”

“Victor! You maniac!”

This time his brain was overwhelmed by too many signals to understand what was happening. His legs ached, his heart was ready to burst and his mouth was pressed firmly against Yuuri’s.

As always, the kiss and cry lived up to its name.

The record-breaking score came as no surprise to anyone.

Victor looked at this coach, suddenly conscious of the cameras pointed at them, the microphones recording every sound, and the audience in the skating rink. He shifted closer to Yuuri. Could he do it?

Yuuri took his hand and smiled. “Yes.”

“But I haven’t…”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something and Victor already knew they’d misunderstood each other again. Would he let him say whatever it was and take that instead?

_ I’ve come this far. I just landed five quads in my skate. I’m not going to stop now. _ He held up a hand to silence Yuuri and received a surprised look in return.

“You _don’t_ know what I’m going to ask for.” _Because, let’s face it, it hasn’t occurred to you._ He took a breath and whispered as quietly as he could, “I want to make love to you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s face was very red.

Victor got up as the press swarmed in and did his best impersonation of his usual self. He tried not to think about Yuuri sitting behind him and tried not to imagine the way that he looked at him now. His heart was pounding fearfully in his chest.

“Of course now that I can do five quads in a free skate, I will have to think of something new,” he said. “I also expect to set the world records from now on.” He talked on, only half believing in what he said.

He was too tired. He wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep.

Still he boasted. It didn’t take a lot of effort. Sometimes he found he could do it without thinking.

Yuuri embraced him from behind. “We look forward to the Russian Nationals,” he said.

Victor smiled. “And then the European Championship!”

“And then the Worlds!” Yuuri completed.

The press was writing everything down hurriedly.

Victor felt his feet shake and he rested his weight on Yuuri.

 

After the awards ceremony (during which Victor tried his best to avoid whispered conversations with Chris) he skated up to his coach with a big smile.

“Grand Prix gold, as promised!”

Yuuri leaned forward, took Victor’s medal and kissed it. His eyes never left Victor’s face.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed in surprise.

“I look forward to kissing all your future gold medals.”

 

The day dragged on to the exhibition dance and Victor both wanted it to be over already and feared the evening. Yuuri sat in the audience for the gala and so Victor didn’t get to talk to him before it was his turn to go out on the ice.

“This year’s Grand Prix Final gold medalist: Victor Nikiforov! He will be skating his coach’s free skate from the previous season: Yuuri on Ice.”

Victor felt the music pull him along in the same way as Yuuri had when he’d skated Agape in front of him. As the piano notes followed one after the other he repeated the routine as Yuuri himself had skated it a couple of weeks ago.

The violin joined the piano and suddenly Victor was aware of the fact that he was no longer alone on the ice. The audience applauded excitedly and Yuuri Katsuki circled around him.

Yuuri held out his hand and Victor took it. What followed was a shorter version of the birthday skate, but somehow Yuuri’s touch felt more tender this time. Victor’s mind went blank and all he thought about was anticipating what his coach wanted to do next.

They said little to each other afterwards. After all, why would they need words when they had the ice?

But most importantly, his idol wasn’t a god and he understood that now. No, he was just another human being, one with human failings and human wants that – in this instance – matched his own perfectly. He’d been wrong all this time, but he was happy to confirm that Chris hadn’t been right either when he’d taunted him during the Cup of China.

 

It was a cold day in Hasetsu. The five-time champion and the current champion of the Grand Prix were in the ice rink, putting together a program for the next season (in theory, at least, in practice it consisted of a great deal of fooling around). It was spring again, but the winter chill had returned for the day.

“I think my next exhibition dance should be a proper duet with lifts,” Victor announced.

“You just want to skate with me again.”

“Yes!”

Yuuri and Victor stared at each other and then Yuuri picked him up. He lost his balance almost right away and they fell on top of each other on the ice.

Finally the laughter died down and Victor got to his feet. He took Yuuri by the hands and pulled him up.

There was a soft smile on Yuuri’s face. Victor felt his heart rate quicken. “I wish you’d marry me already!” he blurted and froze as his words reached his ears and then made it to his brain. “Oh god!” He stared down at the ice. “I… uh…” He stammered and tried to pull his hands away, but Yuuri held on.

For a while it was quiet as Victor panicked.

_ Oh my god! I just proposed! On the ice! In the worst way ever! I could’ve invited him to dinner or something first! What kind of idiot yells it out? _

He went through all of the synonyms for stupid in his head as Yuuri pulled him close.

“Do you really want to marry me?” he asked quietly and Victor realized how much the idea surprised him.

“Ah! Y-yes!” He kept his head lowered. What sort of expression did Yuuri have on his face? Did he dare look?

Yuuri took Victor by the chin and raised his head. “Really?”

“Of course I do, Yuuri!” He wasn’t going to take his words back now. Not when Yuuri acted like it was the maddest idea in the universe. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Pretty much everyone.” There was a pause and then Yuuri asked. “You’d really tie your life down to mine?”

“Until death do us part,” Victor said, giving Yuuri a serious look.

“Until death do us part…” Yuuri repeated absent-mindedly, taking Victor by the hands and giving them a gentle squeeze.

Victor looked down at their hands and then up at Yuuri.

“Ah!” Yuuri coloured and pulled away. “Anyway, a-about your short program…”

_ I’m going to buy rings and do this properly, _ Victor decided, _with dinner and everything._ He watched Yuuri skate across the rink and demonstrate the element he wanted to include in Victor’s short program. _I promise I will do my best to make your life a happy one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to another finished story! A big thank you to everyone who read, left kudos and comments on this fic! I honestly appreciate it all! An extra big thank you to my beta LittleDearOne who gave me really good advice and suggested I rewrite a couple of scenes into what I believe to be a much better version than the original.  
> Up next: a bad boy Yuuri AU as well as a Devil Wears Prada AU (and, yes, I am aware of the fact that someone beat me to it for that one, but I really want to try to write it myself). I'm also thinking about another road trip story with more people in it this time.
> 
> Edit: LittleDearOne wrote the cutest continuation you should all read: [You're too good to be true](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11350311)


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